Invincible
by BloodMoonNights
Summary: Craig Tucker is nearly invincible. He goes to University of Denver; he has a smoking hot girlfriend, a heterosexual life partner, and a budding career as a psychologist. What he didn't expect was coming face to face with the past he left years ago. Creek
1. Prologue

My first Creek fic. :x Please be gentle.

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Invincible

Prologue

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"**You use steel to sharpen steel, and one friend sharpens another. Proverbs 27:17."**

The noise that is being emitted from my alarm clock is quite possibly the most obnoxious noise known to man. I cringe, and dive out of bed to slam it into the wall. It shuts off, but I'm now hanging off my bed with my hair in my eyes and heart pounding away in my chest. I'm awake. I glance haphazardly at my alarm clock; the red digits scream 8:10 at me. Rubbing my eyes warily, I sit back up on my bed and kick off the covers.

The body next to me groans angrily, snatching the sheets. "Craig," it whines while rolling over to face me, "Come back to bed, coverhog." Bebe Stevens looks up at me with big eyes. Her blonde hair is tousled and sprayed out onto my pillows, and she is biting her lip expectantly. I cock an eyebrow and roll my eyes. Women. Am I right?

I suppose I should start over. I'm Craig Tucker. Age: 20. Occupation: College student at University of Denver studying to be a psychology major. Normal student by day; hardcore partier by night. I'm just your everyday guy with dashing good looks, and if you saw me on the street I'm sure you'd want to get to know me. Like most kids from my small town of South Park I transferred to Denver University straight after high school. For instance Bebe Stevens- obviously-, Clyde Donovan, Token Black, Wendy Testaburger, Butters Stotch, Stan Marsh, and Kyle Broflovski all transferred with me. Where are the others? Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn. I've made new friends, and I've kept my old ones; I'm popular, and I like to party so I tend to get along really well with most people.

Bebe sits up in my bed, pulling the sheets up to cover her chest and cocks her head at me. "Where are you going?" she demands, her voice now tinged with frustration. Scratch that, perhaps the most annoying sound is her voice I think. I kick my alarm clock and go to the bathroom.

Bebe has been my girlfriend for about a year now, and she's annoying as hell. But she does have a perfect body, and she does like to party. It almost makes up for how desperately clingy and obnoxious she can be. All the guys liked her back in elementary school, and she developed into the typical blonde college student-no offense to the smart ones, but the fits the stereotype to a tee.

Not quite, but almost.

From the bathroom I flip her off absently then answer her as I turn the shower on, "I have class, Bebe. Perhaps you've heard of it. Mr. Registar is assigning us our projects today. I can't miss it, no matter how much you beg. So don't even start." I hear her pout loudly, and slump back down into bed. Undressing I step into the steaming water. As far as I'm concerned my life is pretty good. I have a girlfriend, I go to school and get good grades, I have friends who treat me like a God, and I have almost no worries in the world.

I, Craig Tucker, am almost invincible.

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Class starts at nine, and I'm out the door to meet Clyde. He is like my little sidekick, we do everything together. I call him my heterosexual life partner, because he pretty much is. Clyde and I share a dorm- I had to kick him out for Bebe's demanded sleepover- and almost every other aspect of life. Today he is wearing a giant brown parka, with one hand shove into his pocket and the other holding a cup of coffee. He wears a white slouchy beanie on his head; his brown hair flips out in every direction. He saunters up to me, and waves briefly with a smile on his face. "Hey, Craig." He says as he approaches. I grin back, and we brofist- we are just that amazing apparently- before heading to the psychology building.

"Did you do your homework for biology?" he asks, now shuffling through his bag with one hand for it so we can compare answers. I grunt in response. Mornings are not my forte, especially nights after Bebe has slept over. He stares at me and hands me his coffee so that I may partake of the delightful beverage. Clyde always knows what I need, that's part of what makes him such a good friend. He always has coffee, because frankly he is addicted. And, he tends to share it with me on mornings when I'm not already up and ready like today. When I hand it back to him he takes a deep gulp of it and grins with pleasure. He looks over his biology homework, frowning and moaning about how she didn't explain this or that, and I nod appropriately because I'm not really focused on that at the moment.

What I am focused on is what our yearly project for psychology is going to be. Clyde stops talking and looks me over one before asking what exactly is on my mind.

"What do you think our project's gonna be?" Clyde asks, his breath coming out in a fog. See? He knows me all too well. I shrug, looking up at the overcast sky. It's true, I really don't know. "Yeah, me neither," he sighs and we climb the steps up to the psychology building and enter. Inside it is much warmer, and I thank God for that because I detest the cold. Clyde and I make our way to the classroom and it's already tittering with people. We take our normal seats as the professor walks in: right in front of his podium.

"So, how are you and Bebe?" he asks, nudging me. I grimace.

"Fine."

"Just fine? Or do you mean… FINE?"

"I mean fine, Clyde, Christ in hell." I grumbled but can't help the smiled that plants itself on my face. He continues to stare at me with that stupid grin as I open my notebook. I love psychology, it's actually something I'm very passionate about, and so when it comes to class I don't fool around. I always wanted to know why people did what they did and how they became one way as opposed to another; this is really the only thing I give half a shit about. Eventually, Clyde pisses off and turns his attention to the teacher as well.

Mr. Registar coughs loudly just to make sure he gets all of our attention, and then turns on the projector. The whole class kinda of stiffens and I lean forward because I like what I see: a tall brick building with a clock in the middle tower, and a large steel enforced door, and the words, "Denver State School" on the front. "Mental asylums. I'm sure you've heard of them. Also called psychiatric hospitals. They specialize in treating those with serious mental disorders. Sometimes in your career you will have to deal with these types of people. So, for our project this year I have assigned each of you a patient from the nearby hospital."

Whoa. Working with mental patients? Yes, please.

"The object of this is to use all that you have been taught- and will continue to be taught throughout the remainder of the year- to get to know a patient, and write a 15 page paper on the experience. This is supposed to be an easy and enlightening project. Why am I giving it to you early? Because some of you will dive right into it, and others will pussy out until the last week." He scans the room, a devilish smirk on his lips. "This will be hard for some of you. Some of you will drop because you cannot handle it. Those who stay, well, congratulations. I'm going towalk buy and hand out your files. Read it over, I cannot stress this enough because certain patients can only be seen at certain times and others have items that are restricted from being brought into the asylum for that particular patient."

He drones on, and I'm hearing it but it isn't computing. I get to actually go to an asylum, and meet and assess some fucked up motherfucker? Clyde pokes me; he must have seen the dreamy look on my face. He grins, "You gonna cream your pants?" he snickers, and I punch him lightly.

"Fuck you," I flip him off and turn my rapt attention back on to Mr. Registar. He is still handing out the files. Finally he gets to Clyde and I. Clyde takes his lazily, and opens it once then shuts it. I look at him expectantly. Shrugging he says, "Just some chick." I glower at him, as he does not obviously understand the magnitude of this amazing once in a lifetime experience. The professor finally hands one to me, smirks as my hands eagerly snatch it from his, and walks back to the podium.

"I think that is all for today, so have a good day. I shall see you all next week, don't lose those files!" the professor points accusingly at us. Some students snicker, then the rustling of papers and books begins. I stare down at the manila folder in my hands, and I feel my palms getting sweaty with anticipation.

I've always wanted to do something like this. Clyde has already left when I turn my head to ask him a question. Suddenly, I am all alone in the empty classroom. Finally, I snap enough out of my stupor to open the folder. What I see gazing up at me is a picture of a small, meek looking boy. Even in the black and white photo I can see that his hair is blonde, and it frames his face and spurts out all over like a lion's mane. His shirt is messed up, and he looks like a mess. One eye is in the motion of a twitch, and his head is cocked, his lips in a grimace. He holds up his patient number and name:

Patient Number: 1011012

Tweek Tweak.

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Please Review if you have time! I hope you liked it.


	2. Chapter 1

Thank you so much to those who reviewed, and also to those who favorite this and have this on alert! I keep all your reviews to go back and read, so thank you guys so much for your cheerleading! :D I hope I don't disappoint.

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Invincible

Chapter 1

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Previously: His shirt is messed up, and he looks like a mess. One eye is in the motion of a twitch, and his head is cocked, his lips in a grimace. He holds up his patient number and name: Patient Number: 1011012. Tweek Tweak.

I cannot stop staring at the photo of Tweek. He looks almost the same except he is taller- 5'9'' I wager by the sign in the back dictating heights- and his hair is a little longer, his face a little gaunter. Worst of all? His eyes a little less alive. The manila folder holding my old friends asylum information falls back onto the desk, and I sink further down into my seat.

To be brutally honest, I had not thought about Tweek Tweak in years; three to be exact. Back in third grade we beat the shit out of each other, and then soon after we were inseparable. The paranoid boy who gulped down dangerous amounts of caffeine at age eight befriended the boy who was known to flip people off at random, and who a lot of kids feared. He was shy, anxious, paranoid, scared and meek. I was his opposite, and we meshed like nothing I had ever seen. Even Clyde got pushed to the side for Tweek.

During elementary school we spent years exploring the mountain areas around our hick town; nights where we laid awake counting the glow in the dark coffee stickers I had stuck to his ceiling, and laughing when they began to peel. Days spent by Stark's Pond with the others, simply watching them skate or venturing to play a game of football. Mind-numbing hours sitting in front of Tweek's television, sipping the latest coffee from his parent's shop and trying to guess the answers to Jeopardy.

When we entered middle school our days were spent studying and reading comic books in dark, dank corners of the library. Tweek drank even more coffee, and his paranoia became worse as the students from North Park were integrated into one single middle school. He became the target of bullies who thought his mane of blonde hair, and his spasms were obnoxious and so deemed it necessary to try and change him. But, Tweek didn't need to be changed. We spent many days sitting outside the principal's office, Tweek freaking out and pulling his hair far too hard while fretting over the latest split lip or black eye I had acquired in defending him. Sometimes he would cry, mostly he would just rock side to side until I could calm him down with words I only knew how to use.

Middle school was over before it began. I sprung up in freshman year of high school to a towering and lithe 6'1''. I got braces that never stopped cutting the inside of my mouth, and I stopped drinking coffee so my teeth would not be stained. I began to care more about appearances, and not my grades which steadily slipped over the years until I realized what a mistake I would be making if I flunked out of high school. I did not plan on being my father. Tweek grew thinner, and slightly taller; his hair became more like a lion's mane, his brown eyes more shifty and alert. His hands still wrung nervously around his silver thermos, and his outbursts louder and more petrified. I began to distance myself from him, leaning more towards stable friends who liked to party, and girls who would eventually change my view on the opposite sex.

In short, I abandoned him junior year. I can still see his face if I close my eyes and focus on that moment. It isn't something I'll likely forget, because I made a mistake then that I would not realize till years later when it was much too late.

I did it halfway through junior year, right before school let out for winter break. We were standing near my locker, and he was looking at the linoleum nervously, murmuring about how it looked like it was probably crawling with parasites. I slammed my locker shut angrily, and he jumped while letting out a loud squawk. "Tweek, we need to talk," I all but snarl. Tweek's eyes lock on mine, and I know I've pinned him. He looks like he is about to run off into the bush like the little lion he is. His coffee colored eyes quiver, but he nods and takes a gentle sip from his thermos.

"What's your deal?" I ask simply, crossing my arms and leaning to the side on a cocked hip. His eyes widen like an owl's and his jaw drops slightly. "Well?" I snap. He flinches.

"I-I dunno what you mean, C-Craig- AGH OH GOD!" he screeches, dropping his thermos as his hands reach up to grip onto his golden hair. This time I don't try to stop him, I just let him freak out.

"Why are you such a dork?" I scoff, glaring down at him from the bridge of my nose. He looked so pathetic: his hands tangled in his hair, looking up at me with those café au lait eyes laced with panic, his normal button up is, of course, buttoned incorrectly, and the fear is almost palpable in the air. His legs tremble; I can tell he is trying very hard not to collapse on the floor- probably scared he'll catch something. "I just can't deal with you right now, Tweek. It's embarrassing how you act in public, and I'm tired of trying to stick up for you. We're in high school Tweek, and we have been for two years It's time to get over whatever the fuck it is you are scared of, and just stop acting like such a complete loser." The way the words roll off my tongue you'd think I had practiced this. I'm surprised at the force with which I throw them out too. I can see each word having an effect on Tweek from the way he starts to back up into a locker, and from the way he twirls his hair in his fingers while practically chewing a hole in his lip.

I look away because I'm ashamed. Ashamed of him for acting this way; ashamed of myself because I'm not strong enough to deal with him and still be able to do all the things I want to do. I flip him off characteristically, his eyes still pinned to mine. "Get the fuck over yourself," I snap viciously, and push past him roughly on my way out of school.

Year later I would swear I had heard him scream into his hands.

Tweek Tweak never approached me again. He never caught my eye in school, never said hello or waved as we passed each other in the hall. I hardly ever saw him anyways to be honest. My attention was elsewhere, and Tweek just became static amongst the other noise that filtered into my life. And, until Professor Registar had handed me this file, I hadn't even thought about him since I arrived at University of Denver two years ago, because my mom had made me a scrapbook of my memories in South Park to take with me. Guess who had frequented a lot of pictures? I'm sure I still have it, buried under other junk in my room.

My trance was broken as new students filed in for whatever class was after mine. I scrambled to pack up my shit, and hurried out before anyone could really even notice I had been there.

X

_The first thing I notice is that I'm naked. In my dreams I'm not usually naked, this probably indicates that something is amiss here. This is not a normal dream. I stand up, but I can't see anything around me; I am surrounded by blackness on all sides. I try to reach out my hands, but I find that I am not bound by something. Even though it is dark, I look down and see that I am in a strait jacket. _

_Panic bubbles in me like a hurricane. I scream and throw my body around, slamming it into walls I didn't know were there. Finally, out of breath and exhausted, I collapse to the floor. In the distance a light flicks on I can vaguely make out the outlines of someone walking closer. Panic fills me again, and I clamber to push myself to a standing position. It is harder than I expect, and I fall over many times before I finally accomplish it. By that time the person is nearly in view._

_The light is coming from them, not some other source. I call out, but it doesn't answer. I shut my eyes tightly; I don't think I want to see who it is. I try to wrestle my hands free, but of course to no avail. Finally the footsteps cease, and I can hear someone breathing softly in front of me. _

"_Open your eyes, Craig." The voice says, it sounds familiar, and so I do. _

_I come face to face with Tweek Tweak. He is smiling softly; his hair falling about his face elegantly. His toffee colored eyes are serene, and he cocks his head to the side as if sizing me up. "It's been a while," he practically whispers. I just stare at him in awe because he is supposed to be in an asylum, supposed to be in this strait jacket. Not me. _

"_T-tweek…" I stammer out like an utter idiot. He chuckles, and closes the distance between us. My heart is beating faster than I could ever have thought it to. He brings his hands up and cups my face. And, just as I am about to scream out, he brings his face in and kisses me on the lips. _

X

I woke up early on Sunday and got dressed at the speed of light. The dream is in the back of my mind, and I leave it that way. Dreams are a load of shit anyways; especially that one.

Clyde grumbles at me from his bed on the opposite side of the room as I rummaged through my clothes, trying to find certain articles and decide if I like what I was in. Finally, he sat up rubbing his eyes and asked, "What the hell are you doing, Craig?" I looked at him blankly, and then continued my search. He watched me with bored and tired eyes as I packed a notebook, the file on Tweek, and a set of pens into my backpack before slinging it over my shoulder.

"I'm going to the hospital. I don't know when I'll be back, but there's money on the dresser for groceries. For Christ's sake, Clyde, please purchase real food and not just Swiss cake rolls for once." I say, punching his arm lightly and walking out the door. I hear him hit the mattress and grumble at me some more before I shut the door softly.

It's a chilly day, and I wrap my jacket closer to my body as I trudge up to the bus stop near my place. I don't have a car, Clyde does, but he doesn't let me use it ever since I crashed it in senior year after taking some Adderall. He has never let me forget it. I sit on the grimy red bench and wait for the next bus to come by. Since I am alone I decide to pull out Tweek's file and go over it once more.

Actually, I already have it memorized because I've read it so many times these past few days since I received it. I doubt Clyde has even opened his since. Bypassing the sad, forlorn picture of my childhood friend I look under his name and patient number for the information I seek once more:

Patient suffers from acute paranoia; cannot sleep at night. Needs two doses of sleeping pills to go down. Claims to see gnomes, and has night terrors. Arms must be kept in a strait jacket to keep from hurting himself. Always make sure nails are trimmed on the patient. Mild to severe schizophrenia. Claims to hear voices telling him to do things. The patient screams constantly and babbles to himself when no one is around to talk to. Random psychotic breaks- rare, but have occurred. Generally sweet, and timid boy; has been improving since late 2009, and may sometimes be released from strait jacket. Do not bring it any of the following objects: pens, pencils, scissors, knives, ties, glasses, glass, keys or anything that can be used as a potential weapon…

I shut the file as the bus arrives. Its doors squeak open to beckon me on, and I shove the file back in my backpack. It feels heavier now, somehow, like all this information has something to do with it. Once I pay my fare and tell the driver where I need to go I find a seat towards the middle of the bus, by the window. I press my forehead to the cold glass, and wonder silently what happened to Tweek to make him this bad.

What happened in three years that could have caused this big of a disaster?

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TBC. Please review. Next chapters will be longer.


	3. Chapter 2

WOW! 15 reviews! You guys rock my world! Please keep them coming if you feel like I deserve it!

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Invincible

Chapter 2

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Previously: I press my forehead to the cold glass, and wonder silently what happened to Tweek to make him this bad. What happened in three years that could have caused this big of a disaster?

The Denver State School is a horrible looking building: a tall brick building with a clock in the middle tower, and a large steel enforced door. There is a massive brick wall surrounding the complex with barbed wire topping it. Off to the side I can see two watch towers, and there are giant lights in case inmates were to escape, I suppose. I walk up to the gate- large, old and rusting but determined to keep them in and us out- only to be stopped by two guards carrying guns on their backs, and one in a holster on their hip.

My throat feels parched. This place is more like a high security prison than a mental asylum, I think. They size me up; ask for my pass and my name. I tell them of my assignment and they look at each other like they don't believe me. To reinforce that I'm telling the truth I hand then Tweek's case file, which Professor Registar must have attained a copy from the place itself. Their eyes widen behind the aviators they wear, and hand me back the file before one pulls out a walky talky and buzzes me in.

The gigantic gate creeks open menacingly, and I think I can see figures loom in the barred windows of the place. I shiver, pull my jacket closer to me and walk up towards the gate claiming it to be the Denver State School. The walk is longer than expected, probably because they want ample time to notify security if anyone were to make a break for it. Off to my left I can see the recreation part of the asylum: basketball courts and various gym equipment located just outside the reaches of a door. The grounds are covered in snow, and there are a few trees spread across the area; all dead, all covered in newly fallen snow. Everything looks so serene, and it isn't until I actually stand right in front of the steps leading up to the front door that I notice how ugly this building is. It's old, cracking, and greyed. Serious signs of neglect are shown visibly in the bricks, and the bars that cover the windows of the place have signs of wear and tear. The giant clock in the middle of the middle tower has a giant crack down the middle, and even though the hands move, it seems as though it should not be working.

"Jesus H. Christ," I mumble, actually appalled by the state of this place. I take one last glance back at the gate which has already shut and locked before going up the steps to the door. Inside I am assaulted by the dingy white of the walls, a color they must think is soothing but would drive anyone bonkers. It even SMELLS sterile, and I wrinkle my nose in disgust. If the walls are dilapidated white then the other fixtures such as the front desk and the gate are an even dingier grey. There are chairs off to the side of the help desk, but they look run down like everything else.

"How may I help you?" a nurse behind the counter asks, she speaks through a reinforced Plexiglas wall with holes drilled into them. Slightly beneath it is a place just big enough for papers and hands to slide under but not much else. The nurse is a hefty lady with her hair is a tight bun, dressed in stark white nurse's garb, with a plastic smile on her face. Her eyes look dead.

"H-hey. My name is Craig Tucker. I'm here to visit patient 1011012, Tweek Tweak. I am from University of Denver; my professor assigned us all a patient for our paper." I can swear her eyes narrow and glint dangerously as I hand her Tweek's file. She looks it over from behind her glass covered castle before standing up and moving back to a tall filing cabinet. She rummages through the files for a bit before pulling out a tag and some papers. Attaching them to a clipboard, and writing my name on the name tag she hands both to me.

"Here you are, dumpling. Just fill this out; standard procedure, dear. Medical information, contact information, past history. We'll need all your personal items, including your backpack." She rambles on, and I furrow my brow in defiance as I fill out the forms.

"Listen, I need my notebook and pen to take notes! I have a fifteen page paper to do, lady. How the hell do you expect me to accomplish that without anything to write on?" She looks up from writing her notes on the clipboard, simply giving me a bored and lame look. Placing down clipboard, she folds her hands, cocks her head and smiles.

"That isn't my fault, dear. The patient you are visiting cannot be around anything to be used as a weapon. Perhaps if the first few visits go well then we can permit it. But, not until then. Can't have a lawsuit now can we? Now! Hand over your bag, we'll keep it safe here until you get back. A nurse will escort you to the room. Patient 1011012 is located in the building in the far back, the high security wards," she takes my paperwork and files through it once before sliding my nametag past the barrier. I clip it to my jacket and look at the gate the blocks the way towards the wards. She presses a button to buzz a nurse to the front. A loud metallic clank alerts me that the doors are about to open.

She hands me back Tweek's case file, and smiles once more as a burly nurse with a pissed off look comes to get me. He's dressed in the same sterile outfit as she is. "Take him to Tweek Tweak's cell; maximum security ward, please! Have a pleasant time!" she waves as we walk away, and before the door slams shut and locks once more I flip her off.

The nurse says nothing as he escorts me across the grounds to the ward. I can hear people screaming and slamming themselves against the wall. I hear babble and words that are not a part of the human language. I don't tear my gaze from Tweek's file; I pull the picture out and stare at it solemnly. Before we know it we have reached another guard's office and reinforced steel door. The nurse grumbles something to the guard, and the doors open.

I expected this ward to be the most unnerving, but for different reasons than it is. I expected even louder screaming and more insanity, but instead it is deadly silent and that more than anything freaks me the fuck out. We go down the bland white hallway until we reach the end. To the left is a door with a small barred window with the words Tweak, Tweek on the front. My breath hitches. Here I am.

"I'll be just down the hall. Scream if you need me. I'll be back in an hour to check on you. Kid's in a strait jacket but he can get kinda loco sometime, so be careful. It shouldn't be a problem, he's been pretty alright lately." The nurse says, absently trying to rub out a scuff in the linoleum with the tip of his sneaker. I nod dumbly. He takes out a giant row of keys and unlocks the door. I step inside, and as I do he locks it behind me.

The first thing I notice is how dark it is, the only light a small light bulb that isn't helping much, and how bare it is. There's a small cot in the corner, the walls are the bouncy kind that are so the inmates won't hurt themselves. Aside from the cot there is nothing else. My eyes lock on a thin figure in the corner of the room. "Tweek…" I breathe, taking a small step forward.

"W-who are you- AGH!" he cries out, petrified and shaking. I can see from almost across the room. His shriek startled me, and I jumped myself. Chancing a look back at the door to see if anyone has shown up I'm not surprised that no one has. "G-get out! GET AWAY FROM ME!" he shrieks, his legs trembling so hard he collapses onto the padded floor. I take another step closer and examine his features.

His hair is messed up and it looks dirty. His eyes are wide, almost bulging out of his skull in fear. His skin is milky white like he hasn't seen the sun in years, and his arms are wrapped tightly in a dingy strait jacket. His legs, long and thin, are inside two sizes too big black pants. His feet covered in dirty white socks. As he tries to push back into the wall- probably hoping to melt into it- I can hear the belts of his strait jacket clanging against fabric and each other. His voice is hoarse, but has deepened with age; his face is thin, dark circles more prominent but I can see the remnants of the boy I knew. And, in his own way, he is still quite handsome.

"T-tweek. It's me. It's Craig Tucker." His eyes widen even more at that, if possible. "You-you remember me, right? From high school?" I bend down, and take off my nametag, placing it on the ground, gently pushing it to him. I see Tweek eye in nervously, but he crawls on his knees over to it and examines it. I see him tremble, and fall back sitting on his legs.

He bites his lips, "C-craig? CRAIG!" His voice raises, panic is on the rise as well.

"Y-yeah, Tweek. It's me; I came to visit you."

"Oh." Was his reply. He sits back, scuttling back into the wall, back into his dark corner. I hear him mumbling to himself, but I cannot hear exactly what. My mind and heart are going insane; I feel like I could throw up any moment. "They say you're lying. They say you don't care about me, Craig- ngh!" his eyes are narrowed and far more determined. The look catches me by surprise and I flinch.

"Who says that, Tweek?" my voice is weak, and I hate it.

"_Them_." He hisses. Pushing himself up to a standing position he begins to pace circles in the padded floor. "AGH! T-they never lie to me, Craig. They never go away. Only ones who care, they say. You're a liar, they say. A LIAR!" he screams at me with all his force. I stand up shakily and step forward to touch his shoulder. When I do he lets out a blood-curdling scream and instantly collapses.

His shoulders tremble as he sobs. I can feel my heart breaking at this sight. Tweek was never a strong person, but he was never pitiful like this. As I stand in his padded cell and watch him sob into the floor I cannot help but remember the boy who used to drink coffee with me and smile. I'd kill to see Tweek smile.

Gathering up any courage I had left I bent down and pulled Tweek into a sitting position before sitting beside him and rubbing circles in his back soothingly. He hiccoughs, and soon his sobbing stops. Tweek looks at me with red-ringed eyes and his lips tremble. "It's really you, h-huh?" he says timidly, reminding me very much of the boy I missed. I smile awkwardly.

"Yeah, Tweek. It's really me."

X

"So, you really came to see me." Tweek says, more of a statement than a question. He is now sitting on his bed, and I'm beside him with my back to the wall. It took him a while to calm down, to actually believe that it was me and not just some ghost. He insisted on actually touching my face to see that I was not an illusion. His hands ghosted over my eyebrows, my eyes, down the bridge of my nose. They lightly went over my lips and down my chin. When I opened my eyes again he was crying, and mumbling insanely to himself.

It took an hour to calm him down. And, now he was. So there we sat on his bed: him in his strait jacket, and I the psychology student next to him. "Uh, yeah Tweek. I did." I shrug, wringing my hands nervously.

His big eyes are focused on his dirty socks, and he wriggles his toes in them as if in thought. "It's been a while," he says, his voice soft and a whisper. I nod, not really knowing what to say at this point… "How long has it been, exactly- ngh!" he twitches, bringing his knees to his chest. He looks so small, so fragile. So goddamn defeated.

"I guess…three years."

"T-that's a long time-AGH! Oh god this is so much pressure!" he brings his head forward to slam it back against the padded wall hard. I jump forward to grab him so he doesn't do it again. When he looks at me his eyes aren't focused; it's like he isn't even there. He falls forward, his head pressed into my chest and just lies there limply as if he is a ragdoll. I bring a hand up and place one on the back of his head, and the other in the middle of his back. Even through fabric I can feel his spine.

It sickens me, and I want to pull back. But, I can't. I just hold him closer, the way I used to years ago to protect him from nightmares. How does he cope with being here; in this dank, dark, padded cell all on his own? How does he cope with no coffee to keep him going, or anyone to calm his fears? How does he deal with voices in his head? More importantly, what do they tell him? Why is he here, and who comes to visit him?

I'm lost in thought when I finally feel his gaze. I look down into coffee colored orbs, widened like the moon. I feel a slight blush creep onto my face, and I want to look away. I don't; I hold his look. "You okay, Tweek?" I finally ask. He nods, and sits back upright.

He sniffles, and looks back down at his dingy socks. "S-so you're in c-c-c-college now, right?" he asks meekly. I nod in reply. "W-what do you study? AGH!" he is earnest in his questions, and I feel that he really wants to know. It's sweet, to be honest. But, I am a psychology student, which means that Tweek will probably catch on the reason I'm really here. I don't think I want to tell him, I feel like it would break his heart. Crush him; when I told him that I was here to see him his eyes came back to life. He actually looked like the boy I left in South Park years ago. His eyes were bright, and I almost saw the beginnings of a smile tug at the corner of his lips.

It never broke the surface.

"Uh, just the basics. Mostly." Not a lie, but not the truth. He looks at me quizzically, trying to decipher the puzzle in the words that tumbled down my lips. I analyze his face for about the millionth time. My eyes fall on his lips, and I feel my face light up once more. I'm suddenly remembering the dream from last night, and panic sets in. His lips are chapped, and cracked. Probably from biting them, and from no chap stick. Some sick, twisted part of me wants to cup his face- the way he did mine in the dream- and just kiss him. To see how he feels, to see if I can feel a pulse when our lips connect.

To see some other emotion from Tweek Tweak than terror.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not into guys; I like girls and everything about them. Hell, Bebe is the personification of the girly-girl. And, I'm very into her. But, that dream stirred something in me, and I want to see dream-Tweek right in front of me, not this broken marionette I am looking at.

"Do you like it?" he asks, his voice shaking only slightly.

"Yeah. There's a lot of kids from South Park," as soon as the words leave my lips I see his face twist into a horrible visage. It is pain and terror. Utter terror lines his face, and he begins to leap off the bed and away from me. He falls though, and hits his face in the padding, his legs crumpling under him. He is up before I even understand what has happened. His back is pressed so close to the corners of the cell that I can see him still trying to press into it- melt into it, even.

I stand up, move in closer with knitted brows, "T-tweek, what is wrong?"

"GET AWAY FROM ME! GET THE HELL AWAY! YOU ARE A LIAR, CRAIG. A FILTHY FUCKING LIAR!" his screams are so empowered, so vicious that I am almost thrown back with the force they fly from his mouth. He begins to advance on me, struggling in his strait jacket. If his hands were free I think he would actually try to strangle me. "YOU ARE JUST LIKE THEM. YOU ARE THE REASON I AM IN HERE. YOU LIED TO ME. YOU FUCKING LIAR! HOW DARE YOU? YOU'RE WITH THEM AREN'T YOU?"

"N-no, Tweek!"

"YOU ARE! THEY'RE SPYING ON ME, MAKING SURE I NEVERGET OUT. THEY WANT ME TO STAY HERE FOREVER!" his escalating voice is causing the other inmates of the closed ward to frenzy. I can hear them shrieking and clawing at the metal. I can hear nurses barreling down the hallway, yelling at them to be quiet. It only serves to rile them up more. I hear horrible noises, and sounds I've only heard in nightmares.

And suddenly without noticing, Tweek is right in front of me. His eyes brimming with tears, his lips curled into a ferocious snarl. I've never seen this side of him; I never would have thought he could look this feral. I am usually invincible, but right now I am terrified. I can feel his breath on my face, see the whites of his eyes.

"I-I don't know what you are talking about!" I scream back, adrenaline pumping and making me want to fight back. He doesn't back down and instead presses right into me. "You're acting insane!" Oops. Wrong words. Again.

"OH. I'M INSANE AM I? CRAIG, YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT INSANITY IS. YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HAS HAPPENED FOR THE LAST THREE YEARS YOU ABANDONED ME. YOU THINK YOURSELF A GOD, BUT YOU ARE JUST AS MUCH AT FAULT AS THEM!" he shrieks. Spittle flies from his mouth and onto my face; his face is red, there are tears cascading down his cheeks leaving trails on his chalky skin.

Before I can say anything more his cell door open and two nurses grab Tweek. He screams, and writhes and spits like a mad dog. Another nurse tries to usher me out, put I push her off. My eyes cannot look away from the unfolding scene. Tweek is pinned on the bed on his chest; one of the nurses holds him down while the other takes out a syringe and a small bottle. It is probably a phenobarbital, and within seconds the nurse has plunged it into Tweek. He lets out a cry or pain and fear.

His eyes catch mine, wide as saucers. They seem to cry out, "Help me!" And then they start to sag heavily, and soon his body stops fighting. His breathing slows, and the nurses get up off of him. They slowly usher me out and lock the door behind them. Once more the ward is quiet, but I can see eyes and digits poking out from behind bars- curious for a look at what riled up the little monster in the very back cell.

My mind whirls around what I have just seen. It wasn't supposed to be like that. It was supposed to be good, and we were supposed to connect. Instead I caused him to have a psychotic break, and be sedated. I feel fury and disappointment burn in my eyes in the form of tears.

We get back out to the front, and I trade my pass for my backpack. After I slip it on I murmur my apologies. The nurse just laughs, "He gives us trouble sometimes. It isn't your fault. Some people are just born bad. See you next week dear." She calls, and swivels her chair to get away from my incredulous look.

Born bad? Tweek? No. Tweek was not born bad. Something made him this way, and I wholly intend to find out.

X

TBC. I changed the end at the last minute- he wasn't supposed to have a break, but I wanted him to. /rude. I hope you enjoyed it. Please review! Next time: Craig's second visit to the Denver State School, a call back to home, and weirder dreams.


	4. Chapter 3

I really love you all. So much! Thank you- anyone!- who has given me constructive criticism. I appreciate it all, and I take it all into account. I write this for you guys, after all! Thank you guys so much for reading, reviewing, and watching! Sorry it took so long- I had writers block, school, and a Rise Against concert to enjoy! Enjoy chapter 3!

X

Invincible

Chapter 3

X

Previously: Born bad? Tweek? No. Tweek was not born bad. Something made him this way, and I wholly intend to find out.

The drive home was a blur, and I still could not really believe what I had just seen. All the floated in my mind was how scared and feral Tweek had looked; how he struggled to get out of his strait jacket, and how his eyes pleaded for help that I could not give. Not that I didn't want to, I just couldn't right then.

By the time I got off the bus I had decided that I was going to help him, and get him out of there. The walk back up to my room was longer and colder than it should have been. And, when I opened the door it is not to a scene I want to see right now. Bebe Steven's leaps off my bed and hurls herself at me- almost like a charging rhino. I fall back into the wall with a loud crash, the backpack and file sliding off my back and out of my hand. Tweek's picture spills out onto the floor. I watch it with wide eyes, before Bebe's bright eyes and blonde hair block my view.

"Welcome back, babe!" she squeals, her hands falling down around my waist. I flinch at her touch, and her eyes narrow. "What's wrong?" her lower lip pouts in what I can only assume she thinks is a cute manner.

Gingerly, I peel her off of me, and bend down to pick back up Tweek's file. My fingers brush over his picture, and I wince in memory. After I have everything, I go to set everything down on my nightstand and sit on my bed. My ceiling fan spins in circles, and I watch it lucidly until the fan blade are replaced with Bebe's wide raccoon eyes. Grumbling, I roll over to place my face in my pillow.

I cannot shake my visit to the asylum; it's haunting me, and I'm pretty sure sleep isn't going to come easy tonight. I make a loud, annoyed moan, and punch my headboard. I hear Bebe go, "Oh my," before sitting down on my lower back. I feel her hands snake up my shirt, tracing my spine and finally reaching my shoulder blades. She bends down, her lips right near my ear,

"Whatever is bothering you, Craig, let me take care of it." Her voice is impish, and light. I can't resist; I turn around so she sits on top of my lower region, and I pull her down into a searing kiss.

X

_Oh god, I'm dreaming again. I closed my eyes for one second after pushing Bebe aside in bed, and when I open them I am somewhere completely new. Music is pumping from speakers I cannot seem to locate, but the bass is thumping loudly enough to shake the dim lights above. I look around only to notice that I'm in the middle of a crowd, right in front of a stage. It's wood, and looks very old- the red paint is peeling back, and graffiti lines the front, but in its decrepit state I find that it is slightly eerie and beautiful. The air is thick with smoke, perfume, and musk. And although there are people as far as my eyes can see I am not being overcrowded. _

_My eyes fall back onto the stage: a drum set in the back with a steaming coffee cup on it, a microphone right up front as well as two more for drummer and the last member. It's dark onstage, and I wonder who is going to be playing. _

_The thought barely registers before I see three figures come onto the stage. I cannot make out who they are- only that they are all male. The crowd begins to titter with excitement, and my eyes focus on them. All of a sudden the bass grows deeper as a guitar or bass- I can never tell the difference- begins to strum. The beat is fast and hard; the singer grabs the microphone, but doesn't sing. All I can hear in the background is a repeating, "Black sheep, come home." _

_It keeps coming, the music escalading, and soon my eardrums are pounding. But, it sounds so good. Finally the stage comes to life, and who else would be standing up there but Tweek Tweak? His lion's mane explodes in all directions, his coffee colored eyes lined and smeared in eyeliner. His lips are curled into a grin I've never seen him wear, his piano fingers are wrapped around the microphone and it's stand; he is dressed in tight black jeans, and a normal button up- buttoned up incorrectly of course- with high top chucks and a white v-underneath his button up. _

_My face pales and lights up at the same time. His eyes catch mine, and I'm frozen. _

"_Hello, again, friend of a friend. I knew you when,"Tweek belts out. The music escalades, Tweek shakes his hair side to side with the beat, my heart pounds faster. His smile never wavers; his eyes never leave my face. It's like he is singing for me. Then I realize that he is. I'm even more mortified as the crowd backs away from me, leaving a perfect road from me up to stage. _

"_Our common goal was waiting for the world to end," he serenades, and I'm flabbergasted. Tweek can sing? I mean, I know it's a dream, but still! His voice is powerful and strong; he looks so confident on that rotting stage with all eyes on him. But, his eyes are just on me. He throws down the mike stand, and jumps off said stage to walk towards me. My legs are locked or I would have run. He reaches me, and slinks a hand around my waist and neck. _

_His body pressed taut to mine, and I squirm to free myself. "Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend!" he sings as strong as ever with lips practically pressed against my ears. I shiver, my body reacting while my brain screams, "HALT!" His hands slide to grab mine, and he pushes me back into a wall I hadn't known was there before. "You crack the whip, shape shift, and trick the past again." I rebound from the wall, seeing stars in front of my eyes from the force in which he pushed me. _

_As he continues to sing, he walks toward me, a playful smirk adorning his lips, "Send you my love on the wire." He reaches me, bends down and places his hands near my thighs. I start to stop him when he picks me up. Who knew he had all this strength? "Lift you up, every time." He spreads my legs, and pushes me harder into the wall with his body flux against mine. His hands hold my wrists above my head suggestively- not that this position isn't suggestive enough on its own. His mouth is dangerously close to mine, and I turn my head so it doesn't connect. I find that I cannot struggle or get away from his grip no matter how I try. _

_He has me pinned. _

"_Everyone, ooooh, pulls away, ooooh, from you." He croons, lips caressing the sensitive skin on my neck. I bite my lip nervously, knowing that is a sensitive spot. And sure enough, as his mouth sucks on the skin I feel my body react hotly and a soft groan of pleasure find its way past my lips. The music continues, and I wonder if there will be another verse. The music continues, and I suppose there should be lyrics, but Tweek doesn't move from the cozy spot on my neck. I shut my eyes and try to focus on something else than this. _

_Finally he moves, I suppose for the last verses. His eyes catch mine, so filled with mirth and something hidden in their coffee colored depths. "I'll send you my love on the wire, lift you up every time. Everyone, ooooh, pulls away, ooooh." He lets go, and I gently fall back to a standing position. The stage has faded out, but I can still hear the music. The people are gone so it is just Tweek and I in this darkness. There is that heavenly light around him once more. "Mechanical bull, the number one," he lifts up his index finger to signify one, and makes a come hither motion. I start to run towards him. _

"_You'll take a ride from anyone," his voice carries him, and I've almost reached him. "Everyone wants a ride." I'm right in front of him. My breath hitches, I cannot find my voice. I want to apologize. I'm scared for him to leave now, and I don't know why. Like he will just disappear and never come back…_

_I reach out to him, he puts up a hand to touch mine; interlocks our fingers. His smile is enough to make my heart race again. "Pulls away, ooooh, from you." The lights go out, and he is gone once more. _

X

I wake up drenched in sweat with a raging boner. I feel Bebe shuffle next to me, and I nearly scream in panic. Instead, I quietly exit bed and tiptoe to the bathroom to take care of my small problem. I grumble to myself, wondering why the FUCK I have a boner. That dream didn't even… I'm not… I don't… Tweek isn't…

I end up punching the shower curtain instead.

X

Bebe is sitting on my bed in her panties as I pack for the Denver State School. Class is out for the day, and it is still quite early so I planned another trip to the asylum. It may be too soon, but I feel like I need to get through to him. And, stop having freaky dreams with him singing… I let Bebe look through the case file, and her reaction to the fact that it was Tweek was quite unnerving.

She looked me dead in the eyes, and smirked while saying, "You seriously didn't expect this, Craig? This kid was bound for this kind of life." I had never thought Tweek crazy; he was just a smidge odd, something was just off. I think it was all the coffee and paranoia. But, bound for this? No, he didn't deserve it.

I pack a silver thermos I had bought at the campus store and filled with coffee. Tweek probably hadn't had coffee in forever, and I wanted to surprise him. Maybe he would open up to me… I finger the outside of the chrome looking container before gingerly placing it in my bag. I turn to Bebe and swipe up the file. She gasps, and pouts up at me before getting onto her knees to be at my level.

"I'll be back later." I coo, kissing her lips softly. She hums contently, and nods. Her eyes are filled with stars and of promises I had made for her when I got back tonight. Women as easy to please if you know how to do it correctly. With her looking sated, and happy I rush out the door and to the bus stop.

X

The nurse looked at me rather incredulously as I handed her over everything but my thermos. I had stopped at a convenient store on the way and gotten coffee stickers, and put them all over the thermos. "Darling, you can't take that thermos in." she says, pushing the nametag towards me. I clutch it tightly, flip her off and snarl back at her that this is a present, and I won't be leaving it in there.

She rolls her eyes, and thankfully lets it pass. I follow the nurse again- whose name I learn is Greg, and who likes coffee too- to Tweek's solitary room. "He calmed down a lot, but the doctor had to give him more pills," Greg says solemnly, looking a bit worse for wear. "I like the kid, you know? He's a good kid deep down, hell, they all pretty much are, but something fucked 'im up real bad." Greg laments, as he takes out the keys to unlock Tweek's door.

The guilt never stops, does it?

The door opens, I am given my instructions once more, and in I embark. Once the door is shut behind me I get nervous. I twist the thermos in my hands nervously. It's still warm with coffee- caramel mocha or something like that. My eyes scan the small closet until I see Tweek hunched over in his corner. He is still tied in his straitjacket, and his hair obscures his face. Slowly, and with deliberately loud footsteps, I approach.

His head shoots up, mouth open in a silent scream. I flinch back. "C-C-Craig?" he whimpers lamely. His face is covered in bruises; the dark foreboding kind that are a deep shade of purple and black. One encircles his eyes, his lip is cut and bruised in the corner, and there is a fist sized bruise on his right cheekbone. I wince at how he looks; part of me gets mad, and part of me wants to bolt.

Tweek still doesn't move; his wary eyes are locked on mine. He doesn't believe I'm here. I bend down, and place the thermos in front of him. He eyes it, disbelieving. "I brought you coffee. The bitch up front tried to take it from me, but it's for you. It's caramel mocha something, I dunno. I hope you like it." I ramble, nervous and unsure. His hazel eyes are locked on the canister as he gnaws at his bottom lip- the part that isn't fucked up. "I came back to see you, err, to apologize." At the word his head snaps up like a puppet on string.

"You came back." He says slowly, as if tasting the words. His eyes are worried, confused, and paranoid. "They said you wouldn't be back." Eyes as big as moons reflect my shocked expression.

"Who did?"

"_Them_," he hisses, looking around nervously. "T-th-they told me that you were gone. Little Craig-foo-foo is gone forever. Pitiful little Tweek made him scurry back into the bramble bush." He rambles, rocking with wide eyes but not really looking at anything. "Then the doctors gave me pills- one pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small, you know- AGH JESUS!" he shrieks. I sit down, and stare at him defiantly. My adrenaline is pumping like mad, but I'm not going to run this time. No matter how hard it gets; I will not run!

"Hey," I say, reaching out to touch his knee. He flinches and looks at me with a quivering lip. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here. I'm not going to abandon you, again. I'm going to help you. You're gonna get out of here," I say putting on a small smile. He looks my face over scrutinizing every feature before he lets out a slow, shaky breath. "I brought you coffee, cause I figured you'd like some."

Tweek eyes the thermos, the nods slowly. "I haven't had coffee in years…I need a s-straw…" he twitches nervously. He licks his cracked lips, trying to keep his calm. Deep down I know he is paranoid about me, about this situation. He has always been terrified of everything- I chalk it up to bad parenting. I walk back to the door, and call the guard. He nods once, and then comes back with a straw. After thanking him I walk back to where Tweek sits and unscrew the lid of the thermos, gently placing it beside me. "What k-kind is it-ngh! It isn't poison is it? You aren't just trying to kill me-OH JESUS!" he freaks and I plop the straw in and hold it up so he can drink it.

"Caramel mocha, I think. I don't really remember what kind you liked. And, no, I'd never hurt you." The hurt on his face is all I can see; I'm not sure to what statement it refers. Hesitantly, he leans forward and sucks on the straw. I can hear him slurp it up, his eyes crossed in the middle so he can stare at the straw. After a moment he lets go and sits back up, licking his lips.

"S'good." He murmurs, a faint blush coloring his pale cheeks.

I smile, "Badass! Here, have more!" I encourage the thermos forward, and he partakes of the drink. We sit in silence until he finishes the whole thing- this boy can drink!- and then I put the top back on and place it to the side. He is still gazing at it, dreamily now.

"D-d-did you do that?" he stammers, wriggling his toes in his socks once more.

"Yeah. I thought you'd like it. I'd let you keep it, but they said no."

"They always say no," he snarls, bitterness in his voice and across his face. "I-I like the coffee s-s-stickers-GAH!" he scoots closer to me, and I feel my body seize up a little. He's knee to knee with me now, and I can see the dark bags accompanying the deep bruises. I want to reach out and touch them, but I know he would freak out.

"Who hit you?"

"Hmm?" he says, taking his eyes off the thermos long enough to make contact with mine. Hazel meets green in a searing moment.

"Who left all those bruises?"

"Oh," he says, "J-j-just some of the other inmates. I c-can't fight back, GAH! C-cause of the jacket." He is becoming nervous, softly mumbling to himself under his breath with his head lowered. He looks defeated, but I can tell there is defiance in him. He may have been twitchy, but when he had to fight- absolutely HAD to- he was strong.

"You need to fight back," I say determinately. His head shoots up, eyes wide once more. His lower lip trembles as he searches for words. "No, seriously. Fight back, Tweek. Don't let those little shits get the better of you. _They_ may belong here but _you do not_!" my voice escalates, exciting inmates in the cells beside us.

"T-they will just hit harder. OH GOD, too m-much p-p-pressure!" he cries out, slamming his eyes shut. "They don't want me to, Craig. GAH! They want me to not listen to you, and t-t-they want me to- GAH! I _can't_, I WON'T!" he screams in what seems like genuine agony. Those fucking voices… I glower and scoff at him.

"You aren't a pussy, Tweek. You don't cop out. Stand up, face your fears for once. Tell those voices they can get the fuck out. It's your heard, after all. You're in control. I'll help you," I command, my voice steely with resolve for this situation. I know Tweek cannot stop the voices on his own right now, but I'm hoping my words will shake him enough to try and defy whatever they say. If he ever gets out, he will need pills and someone to talk to for them to quiet down enough. Me? Could I be that person for him again? Tweek's eyes are hopeful; I can see something shimmering inside of them for once.

Then tears start to cascade.

My heart stops, something inside me pines and aches. I pull him into a hug, careful to mind his bruises as I do so. He sniffles softly into the collar of my coat, but keeps his composure well. We sit like that for a few moments with me holding him until his shoulders sag, and he pulls away. His eyes rimmed red he says, "Can…can you s-s-show me, ngh!" There, in those hazel eyes so full to prove something even though he is terrified, is the Tweek Tweak I know and love.

Wait.

Love?

I'll ignore that for now.

X

TBC. I hope you liked it. There was no call home but….doesn't matter too much! .; Song in the dream is Black Sheep by Metric. PLEASE REVIEW!


	5. Chapter 4

Invincible

Chapter 4

X

Previously: "Can…can you s-s-show me, ngh!" There, in those hazel eyes so full to prove something even though he is terrified, is the Tweek Tweak I know and love. Wait. Love? I'll ignore that for now.

"**The road I walk is paved in gold to glorify my platinum soul. I'll buy my way to talk to God, so he can live with what I'm not. The selfish blood runs through my veins, I gave up everything for fame. I am the life that you adore; I feed the rich and fuck the poor." Don't Stop- InnerpartySystem**

"GAH!" Tweek kicks his leg out and gets me right in the stomach. I stumble back, holding my middle with both hands and double over to the padded floor. Tweek squeaks and runs circles in his panic. "OH GOD DUDE! I'm so sorry, C-Craig. Don't d-d-die!" he panics falling to his knees and pounding his head against the floor. I push him, and unsteady without hands, he falls to his back like a lame turtle.

I'd been teaching Tweek how to fight back using his legs and body for the past hour. He is strong, like I've said before, but I pretended his kicks and head butts and body charges don't hurt. But, they do and I'm at the point where I cannot pretend any longer.

Tweek whimpers, his eyes almost swimming in tears again. I sit back up and take in a shaky breath before telling him, "I'm fine, dude. You did really well, but let's stop for now." He nods in agreement, gnawing softly at his lip with his eyes locked on mine. Electricity surges down my spine at the look he gives me. It is so full of hope, and desperation to be near someone who cares for him.

A knock on the cell door breaks the tension, and both of us jump as it opens and Greg is standing there with two bowls of what looks like shit. I grimace as he places down the food, and to accompany Tweek's tray is a cup of assorted pills. Fury flashes over Tweek's face making him look feral, and I am taken aback by the look. Greg just looks down with tired eyes and states, "You know you have to take 'em, kid." I glance back at Tweek who is just glaring daggers at the nurse. Greg reaches out to take the cup full of pills and makes a motion for Tweek to open his mouth.

The lion haired boy glowers and purses his lips in anger.

Greg sighs, "If you don't take 'em, I'll have to sedate you. Then your friend here'll have to leave." This catches the boy's attention. Wide toffee-coffee eyes look optimistic and dazzle with the light from the ceiling. He opens his mouth after a moment and Greg pours the pills in one by one. He then picks up a cup of water and holds it to Tweek's lips for him to drink. After a few short gulps Greg gruffly says, "Open up, kiddo." And Tweek opens his mouth wide as Greg looks for any hidden pills in his gums or under his tongue.

Greg leaves after the pills are all gone, shutting and bolting the cell door. I then realize we still have food, and then I wonder, 'how does he eat?'

"I hate the f-food here." He simpers, glaring down into the bowl with his upper lip curled in disgust. I sigh, and run my hands through my hair before picking up the plastic spoon and dipping it into the food. It has to be soup, I suppose, and I put the spoon in front of Tweek's face. He looks baffled, his eyebrows contracted in confusion. "W-what are you d-d-d-oing- GAH!"

"Feeding you, dumbass. Open up." I growl. He just continues to stare for a while before a small blush creeps on his face and he opens his mouth. I feed him in silence for a while before he says he is full. I don't really believe it- ten spoonful's of soup wouldn't get a person full- but I don't press it. Out of curiosity I take my own spoonful of soup and gag on it.

The best way to describe the taste is liquefied shit, perhaps mixed with some bleach and arsenic. It's horrible, and I spit it back out into the bowl. Tweek looks at me unfazed, and falls back to the padded floor to look up at the ceiling. "This stuff is putrid," I complain. I hear Tweek chortle a little, and I go to lay next to him.

"It's asylum food-ngh- what do you expect?" he says blandly. "We are not even c-considered people, to be honest-GAH." He twitches in his jacket, and lets out a shaky sigh. "We are the scum, the things that people rejected, and hide under beds and in closets to rot away." His voice doesn't waver as he talks to me, and that unnerves me.

I catch his eyes as I look sideways. "Is that why you look like an emaciated house cat?" His chuckles lowly, and a small smile tugs on my lips. "You need to get out of here, Tweek. I'm serious."

"You're telling m-me."

"I'm going to help you."

"D-don't do me any favors," he whispers silently, and the words pain me more than they should. I sit up on my elbows and look down at him. He looks lazily at me before rolling over to his side. "I'll n-never get out of here-ngh- is what I mean. I'm nineteen, schizophrenic, and uncontrollable-GAH!" his body shakes and I touch his side gingerly. He lets out a shriek, and I pull back as if burnt.

"T-tweek…" my voice is soft. He rolls over and sits back up. His eyes are squinted as he exams me.

"Tell me about the world, Craig." He whispers, pressing his forehead to my chest. I stiffen as he nuzzles in closer, still shaking and making small nervous noises. "T-tell me what I've missed, what I'm m-m-missing in here, ACK!" the last squeal makes me sigh and wrap my arms around him in a hug. He sinks into me comfortably, the way he did when we were young and he had been almost beat up at school.

I wonder what to tell him, but the silence isn't awkward for once, so I don't rush. Do I tell him about the last year of highschool, the one I enjoyed without him? Do I tell him about the drugs, and drinks, and waking up in beds I don't remember falling into in the first place? What about my first year in college, dating Bebe, moving in with Clyde? Falling into the tedious routine of school? Do I tell him about my project…? How he is the subject of a fifteen page paper to be read by my professor and maybe more people?

The last thought brings a sharp pang to my chest, and I take a long breath inward. Part of me craves to tell him why I am here, but another part wants him to think I am here to help him. That I remembered him before the case file was thrown down into my greedy, wanting hands. But, truth is, I hadn't. I had been so invested in my own self, my own future, and my own advances than in the pain I had caused others.

How many more like Tweek did I have to step on to get to where I am now?

I hold him tighter in my arms, and he lets me.

I won't tell him now, I decide, but I will tell him eventually. When I help him, and he is happy then I will break the news and hopefully he will forgive me. Bringing a hand up to rest on the back of his head I begin to talk, "Well, college is pretty cool. I live with Clyde Donovan, you remember Clyde right? He's kind of a crybaby. We have lived together since freshman year; he hasn't changed a bit. The campus is beautiful…"

X

Tweek fell asleep in my arms as I talked, and I fell asleep telling him. I'm awoken later-though I don't know how much- by the cell doors opening. I open my eyes and hiss at the light wafting in; Tweek stirs against my chest, digging his face deeper. I gasp and throw my hands up, forgetting he was there till just then, and blushing at the proximity.

Greg stands in the doorway with a smartass grin on his face. "Hey kid. Just wanted to make sure you were breathin'."

I rub my eyes and try to move Tweek so he doesn't wake up. He just clings tighter by ramming his body harder into mine. "W-what time is it?"

"About 3 o'clock. You two musta been asleep for about two hours; good thing, cause he never sleeps. Maybe an hour a night." He says, sympathy lacing his voice as his eyes look downcast. I nod, not knowing how to respond, and he comes over to pick Tweek off me. He places him gently on the bed and Tweek doesn't wake up but simply moans softly and curls up like a cat into a ball.

"I-I think I'll stay till he wakes up, if that's okay. I don't want him to wake up alone." I whisper, staring at Tweek's sleeping form. His features are very soft in slumber: his lion's mane falls gracefully around his baby face, his mouth isn't stretched in disdain or panic but relaxed and slightly open, the bags under his eyes aren't so intense and I can see his eyes darting behind his shut eyelids. He looks peaceful, and happy, and most of all not insane.

Greg just nods with a self-satisfied smirk before shutting the door. I turn my attention back to Tweek, and lean against the padded wall beside his bed with my knees curled up to my chest and my arms wrapped around them.

What makes Tweek tick? I used to think it was coffee, but he's been so devoid of it that I doubt that's the reason. When did he start hearing voices? I know he used to see gnomes a lot, and maybe what everyone took for a silly over-caffeinated joke turned into real terrors for our little lion. I reach out to stroke his hair, and I feel guilt gnawing away at me.

Then I think, is guilt the reason I'm here? Is the reason I'm here to feel better about myself after all is said and done? Is it because I have to be for school? Or am I a genuinely good person, who wants to look past my old ways and help this person? I groan in frustration.

I'm so used to burying any feeling of discontent and upset with something else that right now- without anything to distract me- I'm completely cut open. There is no alcohol to help me forget what I've seen here in such a short time; no warm body-sans Tweek, and well… I'm not even going there, okay?- to satisfy me and wipe my mind clean. I bury my problems under drugs, sex, and fun. Here, in this asylum, everything is out in the open. There are no cover-ups, there are no hidey holes for feelings to sink in.. Raw and ugly is how they live. It's how I feel right now.

I sigh, and blow a strand of hair out of my face, before laying my head in my lap to think some more. I hear a small whimper and my head bolts up to look at Tweek. He is moving around in bed, trying to get away from something and failing. His eyes are moving fast under heavy lids, and his lips are trembling in fear, while small noises of panic begin to bubble up from his throat. I scuttle over to him and lean over so I can examine him further.

It's obvious he is having some sort of nightmare, and I'm contemplating waking him when his eyes shoot open and a blood curdling scream tears from his throat and shatters the silence on the closed ward.

All hell breaks loose- again.

Tweek jolts up, and his forehead collides with mine. I'm thrown back, seeing stars in front of my eyes as he leaps on top of me, and buries his head in the crook of my neck. I feel tears begin to cascade down, soaking my shirt and trailing lines down my neck. Tweek is screaming and sobbing incoherently while the inmates in the cells beside him are whooping and hollering like monkeys.

"T-they are _back_…..help me…. D-d-d-don't let them… hurt, Craig….they want to _hurt_ you!" he sobs. I am dizzy and so I cannot sit up at the moment but I push Tweek off me and he complies like a doll. He lays lifeless on his back, sobbing and staring at the ceiling, rambling to himself about something. "Never go away, never, never, never, never…" he repeats the words while twitching and it isn't until I grab hold of his shoulders and heave him up that he stops.

"WHO is back, Tweek? What are you talking about?"

"THEM, Craig-GAH!"

"Who is _them_?"

"The voices, the monsters, the creatures that crawl inside my mouth while I sleep. The worms that crawl into my brain and make me crazy. Bugs. _Bugs_!" he twitches with eyes wide and wild like a caged animal. He is up in a flash and running headfirst into the wall. I grab his leg; trip him, before his head can collide into the wall with dangerous force. He falls onto his face, and I hear him whine and scream and thrash in anger and frustration. "Let. Me. Go!" he struggles against my hold on his ankle, "I have to obey, they are in my head. I have to get them out. This. Is. The. Only. Way!" he wrenches away and kicks me viciously in the face.

I taste blood just in time to see Tweek being pulled back by two nurses sans Greg. Said man approaches my side, and looks me over with worried eyes. "He had a nightmare, is all." I say, making excuses for the boy who cannot. Greg looks at me apathetically, and back at the nurses who are calming Tweek down in the hallway. I don't see a syringe, and so I feel slightly better. "He had…just a nightmare, please don't punish him." I beg, pitiful.

Greg sighs, and rubs his temples. "I'll see what I can do. But, he was hallucinating right?" I nod despairingly, sucking at the blood flowing from my lip. "We'll need to give him some more medication for that. We recently decreased it because he was doing well, replaced it with some pills that help the voices. But, it looks like they're back."

"What does he see?"

I don't expect an answer, but I get one. "He sees monsters, little humanoid creatures with sharp teeth and burning eyes. They put bugs in his head, he says, and that's caused us some issues. The worst of it happened the last time we took his jacket off." He pauses, his eyes distant in a memory I desperately want to know about. And not just for my own sick pleasure, but to help Tweek. "One of the newer nurses let him take his jacket off because he had been so good and quiet. Well, she left him alone for a few minutes to get his pills, and she came back to see him tearing his arm open with his nails."

I wince at the description of both the hallucinations and the psychotic break. The hallucinations sound kind of like gnomes; just worse.

"He said there were bugs all over his arm- I guess kinda like meth bugs that addict's see- and he panicked. Took his ragged nails that she forgot to cut and tore long lines down his arms. It was a bad sight, I'll tell ya. One of the worst thing I'd ever seen; he's been confined to his jacket ever since." Greg finishes his story, and my stomach is turning so much that I don't want to know any more for now.

Greg turns tired eyes to me, "You should probably go."

"Yeah," I say absentmindedly, while searching the cell for the coffee thermos I had brought. It's in a far corner, probably thrown over there in the panic of Tweek's hallucinations. Greg ushers me out of the cell, and we walk past Tweek who is shaking and whose eyes are rimmed in red from crying. His gaze catches mine, and then trails to my lips.

"A-ahh! Craig! I'm s-s-s-sorry!" he begins to start for me, his eyes so full of despair. A nurse holds him back with strong hands, and he shakes like a leaf. I just stop and smile softly at him. "Y-your lip-GAH! I'm sorry, dude…" he whines like a beaten dog, tail between his legs and all. I shrug and laugh lightly, and his eyes brighten for a moment.

I'm not going to let this ruin what nice progress we'd been having, and the nice time I had had reconnecting. I had gained more answers than I probably needed this soon, but nothing I didn't need to know. Maybe next visit we could have a normal time, with no freak outs. But, I don't blame Tweek- oh no- it isn't his fault. He cannot help it; something morphed him, something pushed him over the edge of the cliff he'd been traversing. I'm not abandoning him; I plan to come back every day till I know. It isn't just guilt, at least not anymore if that was what it was. It is a desire fueled inside me to help my friend. My _friend_…

"It's alright, Tweek. No harm done. I'll be back tomorrow, okay? Be a good kid until then," and I wave lightly. His face brightens at my words, hope shines in his features. He glows. The nurses roll their eyes and jerk him back roughly toward his cell.

And so we depart for another day.

Tomorrow I wholly intend to have some of my questions answered. I want to start making more progress with him, advance to another level and get to the bottom of this fucked up scenario I've been thrust into. I plan on hearing Tweek's story, or as much as he will divulge, because I know he won't tell me everything if he tells me anything at all. That's something I have to dig up myelf. But, I don't dislike it. I welcome a challenge. I am invincible after all.

X

A/N: Another freak-out, this time from nightmares. I hope you liked it; I wasn't sure how it came out, but I kind liked it. Wanted to delve a little more into Tweek's psyche. I tried to develop Craig's thoughts and feelings a little more too. I hope they are clearer than before; we will see more as we go along in this story. I like to keep him kinda shadowed, it adds to the mystique! Please stay tuned for more! Also, please review if you have time!


	6. Chapter 5

Invincible

Chapter 5

X

Previously: Tomorrow I wholly intend to have some of my questions answered. I want to start making more progress with him, advance to another level and get to the bottom of this fucked up scenario I've been thrust into. I plan on hearing Tweek's story, or as much as he will divulge, because I know he won't tell me everything if he tells me anything at all. That's something I have to dig up myself. But, I don't dislike it. I welcome a challenge. I am invincible after all.

I didn't find out the next day. Or the _week_ after that. Or the _month_ after that. Things got better between Tweek and I, there isn't a doubt about that, but as for getting to the bottom of his problems… He is as cloistered as a clam; caved in on himself. Whenever I tried to ask him what was wrong, or what had happened, he would curl up and start to shake. Sometimes he would cry, or scream, or thrash about like a beast.

Mostly, he would just stare catatonically at the wall until I touched his shoulder gingerly to bring him back to reality. With a shaky intake of breath, and small, pained smile he would whisper, "I'm sorry, Craig. Can we talk about something e-else?"

His nightmares lessened, as did his hallucinations. I like to think that I attributed to that- lord knows my head isn't big enough as it is. The nurses and doctors were pleased by his recovery, extending visiting hours for me when I came. They started to cut down on his medication, and let us go out onto the grounds to visit and enjoy the sun's warmth.

The first time Tweek was let outside, he almost had a breakdown. He had been in the Denver State School for three years and hadn't seen the outside world since. Greg ushered us to the door, humming something and obviously happy at the turn of events. We reached the big doors that would take us to the outside pavilion. Tweek trembled next to me, his toffee colored eyes watery with unshed tears.

"You okay, dude?" I asked, brow furrowing. He cast his look up to mine. He shook like a leaf in the wind, and gingerly placed his head on my shoulder for comfort. My eyes widened, and I felt my face grow hot with embarrassment. But, I didn't pull away. Instead I let him rest there, and he seemed to simmer down.

If it helps him calm down, I thought, let him do it.

I put one hand on the door and pushed open. The sun was bright this day, with not a cloud in the sky. Snow had fallen, peppering the ground in pure white. Tweek let out a small, shuddered gasp at the sight of the courtyard glowing. Sooner than expected, he pulled his head from off my shoulder and bounded out into the bright sunlight. I was a little off-put by the release of warmth his head had provided but it was all but forgotten as I saw Tweek bounding away.

He was whooping, and jumping around. When he turned, I could see a giant smile plastered on his face. His coffee eyes crinkled, as his smile reached that high on his face. I don't think he had smiled that big in so long. His lion's mane curled and danced around his face as he leapt over mounds of snow, and enjoyed the chill of the wind. His hot breath came out in smoky fog, and his cheeks grew pink with the cold soon.

I was mesmerized.

How could anyone be so happy about snow? About the outside world?

And then I remembered. Tweek hadn't seen the outside world in three years. Three long, solitary, and confined years. I leaned against the doorframe with crossed arms, and simply enjoyed the look of my friend in the snow.

After that, he was allowed out more often but he still had to wear his jacket. I was currently working on that. And while I hadn't gotten any deeper, darker information from Tweek I didn't really mind. Sure, I wanted to find out what was wrong, but I also liked spending time with him. And…well, seeing him improve made my heart feel all warm. And, seeing him smile was contagious for me in the way yawns are for other people. It made me happy to see some life come back into him.

X

Bebe pouted at me as I pulled on a red hoodie and made a beeline for the door. At the last second she latched onto me like a cheetah on its prey- around the neck too- and pulled me down. I made a strangled noise as she rolled me over and sat on top of me with her piano fingers on my chest. Bebe's bright blue eyes looked down into my own with expectations.

"What are you doing?" she sung, kissing the nape of my neck, her hair tickling my nose. I stiffened under her touch. "You know tonight is Token's big party, you can't cancel like you did the last four times," her nails dug into my skin, and her kisses got more vicious.

I gulped, oh shit. Token Black holds parties almost every Friday. Being the rich bastard he is he actually lives in a rented house and not a shanty apartment. His parties are amazing and have everything one could ask for at a party. He had keggers- usually at least 3- he had every type of alcohol imaginable, with mixers to boot. He had food, and fireworks for when one felt adventurous. Token's parties were the talk of the town.

And I had apparently missed the last…four. Oops.

"Oh, d-did I? Heh." I laughed weakly, and tried to wriggle from her grasp. Her eyes shot up, usually light blue was now dark and glassy. I gulped. Bebe can be a little…psychotic. She likes attention, she likes to feel noticed, and loved. Believe me, I'm cool with all of that- I am a gentleman, after all. It's just a little much sometimes; spending at least four hours a day with Tweek wasn't helping satisfy her needs either.

In short: I have been avoiding her like the plague.

Another thing about Bebe: she knows when she is being avoided, or one upped. So, when her hands tug on the waistline of my jeans, and she bites her lip seductively while grinding her hips to mine, I just shut my eyes and try to focus. She's also very good at getting her way, and I'm already turning into jelly under her very capable hands.

Her lips trail up my neck, planting soft kisses along the way, and eventually reach my lips. She tastes like cherry chaptstick, and I find that very refreshing. She nibbles on my bottom lip, and grinds herself into me roughly. I cannot stop the groan that escapes from my lips; I can feel her own curling into a smile.

She knows she has won. "Listen, Craig, babe," she pulls away, looking down at me with half-lidded eyes, and a very sexy smile plastered on her face. "I know how _important_ this project is for you and all, but you've been ignoring me. And, Clyde. And everyone else for that matter. They all miss you, babe. Please, please, _please_ come tonight. You won't regret it." Her lips graze over mine again, the ghost of a kiss.

My body is reacting to her playfulness, and I'm mere putty in her hands. I nod, and she kisses me fiercely once more before getting up and walking to get me my backpack. Picking myself up off the floor, I admire her body as she bends down to get the book bag. I stride over to her, and when she stands up and turns I pin her to the dresser behind her. She drops my bag, and gasps out shocked. A smile dances along her face, but she pushes me away with ease.

"Nu-uh-uh," she sings, once more picking up my bag and shoving it at me. "Tonight. Eight o'clock. Be there, Craig." There is warning in that statement, which I will heed. There is also the promise of something very well…satisfying as well. So, I will definitely not be late to Token's pad. I flip her off playfully, and turn my back to head out.

I like to satisfy, what can I say?

X

"Today's the day, kid." Greg says, escorting me along the very familiar route. I don't really need an escort, or someone to watch over me. I don't need a babysitter anymore. However, Greg is pretty cool, and he cares for Tweek more than I can say about the other shitheads here. I am toting a bag of donuts and Tweek's thermos. I bring him a new type of coffee everyday so that, when he gets out, he can know which kinds he prefers.

We reach Tweek's cell and I pull out a powdered donut for Greg as he unlocks the door. "The day for what?" I ask as he just smiles and shuts the door behind me while inhaling the powdered good. Shrugging, I turn and drop both the thermos and bag of doughy delights.

Tweek's jacket is off. His _strait jacket_ is off; a doctor looms behind him scrawling on a clipboard, face hidden behind thick lenses. It's a female, and if she notices my presence she doesn't let on. I lock my eyes onto Tweek's figure and he is simply staring down at his hands, curling and uncurling his fingers, not bothering to notice my appearance.

The scrawling noise stops, and I look at the doctor. "Okay, as we have been getting very good news with the patient we are allowing him to test out not being in his jacket. For just this day; you are his normal visitor, yes?" her voice is strict and formal. I don't like it. I flip her off. She scoffs, and looks down at the clipboard again. "Craig Tucker, I presume?"

"Yeah." I say, gazing back at the catatonic Tweek.

"I'm Doctor Faithful, the head doctor of this ward. Since you are the supposed reason for his increased good behavior you are in charge of making sure he does not get out of control. If he happens to have a break you are to call for a nurse who will put him back in it. His pills are on his lunch tray, and they have also been decreased because of the improvement. Make sure he takes them all."

"Isn't that, like, your job?" I snap back, straightening my posture and reaching full height. I don't like to be bossed around.

"Quite. Well, I can always put it back on…" she leaves the sentence hanging, and the look on my face must have been enough because her thin lips curl into a smirk. Bitch, I think mentally while narrowing my eyes. Though, I suppose I do owe her a thank you for letting us try this out. Gathering all my pride I thank her softly and tell her I will make sure he is safe. With a satisfied smirk she waltzes out of the cell.

Once we are alone I bend down to pick up the thermos and the bag. Tweek finally turns to look at me and smiles happily. His eyes are bright with mirth, and he leaps to his feet. I flinch. As excited as I am by him getting to use his hands, I am nervous. Under his strait jacket was a black crew neck shirt with his patient ID on the front. His arms are incredibly white and pale, and lankier than I imagined they would be. His fingernails are trimmed down to painful looking nubs so that he cannot scratch himself.

That's when I remember… _"Took his ragged nails that she forgot to cut and tore long lines down his arms. It was a bad sight, I'll tell ya. One of the worst thing I'd ever seen…"_ Greg's words ring in my ears as I feel my eyes drift down to look at his wrists.

I wretch, but try to hide it. Long scars trail all the way down from his elbow to his wrists. They are all frenzied, panicked, and had to be very deep to make scars like that. Short ones, long ones, jagged ones, and straight ones pepper his snowy skin making it look almost monstrous. Tweek is right in front of me, but his smile has faded as he finds where my eyes have traveled.

"Er," I stammer, and then thrust the thermos in his hands. He takes it, his fingers touching the cool metal. He gnaws on his bottom lip and feels the thermos with intense determination. His attention is now on something else, and I sigh relieved. "I guess you can drink it yourself now, huh?" I say cheerily sitting on his bed and opening the paper bag to pick my donut. Tweek continues to exam his thermos with undaunted love until he heard the crinkle of the bag and scurries to join me.

He peeks inside the bag, and looks up at me with wide eyes. "Which one do you want, dude?"

"Y-you got these for m-m-me-GAH!" he twitches, twisting the top off the thermos slower than needed. I nod, and press the bag to him. Tweek peeks in the bag, making sure nothing dangerous is in there, and then grabs a cream filled chocolate iced donut. He lays it on his leg and pours the now luke-warm coffee into the lid. He dips the donut in the coffee experimentally, and examines the texture of said treat before taking a small, baby sized bite.

I watch him with raised eyebrows. Tweek is still an anomaly. Overly paranoid, but trying to maintain a sense of normalcy. He still twitches and spazzes at the most random of times; his eyes still will not remain locked on one thing for too long; he still cries out in terror sometimes, and has these crazy ideas of things being more dangerous than they are. As I mull all this over I absentmindedly take a bite of my own donut, not really paying attention to the taste.

Suddenly Tweek turns to me, spill his coffee all over my pants and his donut falling to the cell floor. He screeches, "I can use my _hands_, Craig! GAH! They're l-letting me! It's all thanks to you!" He holds them up to my face as if I don't already know this.

Thank fucking Jesus that the coffee has lost most of its warmth, because it seeps right into my crotch, and strains the material. I curse under my breath, and look up at Tweek. He hasn't realized yet, and I don't have the heart to yell at him for it. He just looks too…cute.

Oh God. NO! Not cute. Definitely not cute. Effeminate maybe. N-not cute. Ahem…

Snapping back to reality, I find my pants thoroughly soaked. It finally clicks in Tweek's mind, and his gaze travels to my nether regions. Wide eyes widen even more and tremble with fear. He grabs hold of his straw colored mane and pulls, grinding his teeth. "OH CHRIST! C-craig, I'm so sorry! Oh, j-j-jesus!" he looks around for anything to clean up with, and when he realizes there isn't anything he starts pulling on his hair again. Harder.

"H-hey, Tweek. Stop that," I growl lowly, trying to pull his hands away. He grips on tighter. Big tears pour down his face as he talks to himself. "Tweek, stop this right now." I say a little more loudly now using both hands to try to pry his hands from his hair.

"T-they'll make me put the jacket back on-GAH! A-a-and I just got it off-f-f-f." he stammers, completely in hysterics. He isn't listening, and he is about to pull his own fucking hair out. So, I do the first thing that comes to my head…

I slap him.

X

At Token's party, leaning against the wall with a beer in hand and thoroughly buzzed. The house is buzzing with the bass and the energy emitting from everyone. I go over my day as I crowd watch, not caring to join in.

After the slap I had calmed Tweek down enough to get Greg to the door and get a change of pants. Tweek sobbed silently for a small while; his head in my chest, and his arms wrapped around my waist for comfort. I just sat there and stroked his back, unsure about the contact plus mixed with the dreams I keep having about him… Trying desperately to push them to the back of my mind I focus solely on comforting him; my_ friend_.

After he is calm, we eat the rest of the donuts and he takes his pills. My eyes always fall back on his scars, but I'm too nervous to ask him just yet. He'll tell me in time, I'm sure. Overall, the first day with his hands has been a good one. Doctor Faithful comes in as I leave to assess him and put his jacket back on for the night. Tweek narrows his eyes, but complies. His eyes look less bright as he watches me leave and gets the jacket put back on. I promise him I'll be back tomorrow and that elicits a small smile from him and a nod.

I sigh, and finish my beer with one giant gulp. Crumpling the can, I toss it to the side. My mind wanders to the dreams I've been having about Tweek. They haven't been lewd, well, too lewd. Lately, it's just him standing in front of me, smiling, and sometimes touching the sides of my face. I always wake up in cold sweat, thinking about why I am _even having_ dreams like this. I mean, I'm helping him out. Paying my debts back, and helping a friend. What does this mean?

As I continue to think I see Bebe worming her way through the crowd of dancers who have gathered around Token's stereo system to make a makeshift dance floor. She reaches me with two shots in her hands, and a smile plastered on her perfect face.

"Hey!" she screams, handing me the bigger of the two shots. I'm already feeling the effects of the beer, and another shot is probably going to do me in. But, I'm a man, and fuck you man. I take the shot with ease as Bebe takes her tiny one in two drinks. She latches herself to me, hands resting on my lower back and lips locked on my collar bone. "We should go upstairs," she slurs, pulling away and grabbing my hand. I smirk and follow her excitedly.

About time, I think as we enter one of the many rooms- seriously, why does Token need this many rooms?- and she locks it behind her. Before I can get there she has tackled me to the bed, and captures my lips with hers. She tastes like whiskey, and I fucking love it. Greedily I start peeling her clothes off, and she follows suit by easily taking mine off as well until we are down to our undergarments. She scoots further up onto the bed, and pulls me down on top of her.

She runs her fingertips lazily down my back and sometimes scraping her nails against the skin. I shiver, not really enjoying the feel of nails raking down my back. But, I keep going. She smiles into my lips as I kiss her hungrily. She opens her mouth welcoming me in, her tongue teasing me to follow to hers. I am more than happy to oblige, with the alcohol making me more eager than I already am.

My hands trails up her curves till they reach her shoulders, and I bring my lips away to kiss down her chest till I kiss her navel, running my tongue over her hipbones. She moans and wriggles under me, calling my name and arching her slender back. She keeps mewling out my name, and pulls me by the hair to go back to her lips. I open my eyes mid kiss to see swollen red lips, and coffee colored eyes half-lidded in pleasure. Coffee colored…?

I open my eyes fully, hazy from the buzz, and hovering above the body below me. Except, it isn't Bebe anymore. I look down at Tweek Tweak beneath me.

That's when I screamed.

X

Sorry this was so delayed- I had exams and projects abound. Sorry sorry sorry this chapter sucks so bad. It's really just filler. I hope you enjoy it though; things start to get more real next chapter. Reviews are love, thank you!


	7. Chapter 6

Invincible

Chapter 6

X

"**I'm just a soul whose intentions are good.**

**Oh lord, please don't let me be misunderstood."**

Previously: I open my eyes fully, hazy from the buzz, and hovering above the body below me. Except, it isn't Bebe anymore. I look down at Tweek Tweak beneath me. That's when I screamed.

No. No. No, no, no. Nonononononono!

Oh God. Please let me not have just seen that.

When I screamed I pushed away, and in turn fell flat on my butt on the ground. All the haziness of the drinking I had done was now erased. Yeah. Nothing sobers you up like seeing your old best friend writhing under you with swollen lips, and a light flush across his cheeks.

Bebe peeked over the bed, her blonde locks spilling over her shoulder. Her blue eyes were hazy, and heavily lidded still. She pursed her lips into a pout, and asked, "What did you scream about, Craig?" Her voice is light and airy, but I can tell there is a hidden threat there. Bebe never did like being interrupted during sessions like this.

She is clad only in her bra and panties, and still I cannot seem to get back into her. My mind keeps wandering, wondering, and thinking about what the flying _fuck_ just happened! I scramble far away from her and she drunkenly takes a step towards me. I push myself to a standing position, and back into the bedroom door. Nervously I fumble with the lock, and before Bebe can latch on again I am gone.

I fly down the stairs, and out the door. No one notices my departure. It is freezing out, with a small, light snow falling down on me as I run to my apartment. I can feel my bare feet pounding against concrete, and growing numb from the cold. I had forgotten my shoes in the panic. I glance down to find that I had also forgotten my shirt.

I am outside in the snow with no shoes, and no shirt. I stop running to catch my breath. I double over as a stabbing pain radiates in my chest. The icy air does nothing to help me. Once I am able to catch my breath I'm off again, and I don't stop until I reach my apartment.

It's empty and I thank God for that. I do not want any questions, any prying into my business, or any bullshit. After locking the door I trudge over to my bed and fall flat on it. God damnit… What is my problem lately? I've been on this crazy Tweek binge ever since…well, since I saw him again.

I plant my face in my pillow and scream.

When did I start to go all…faggoty? I realize how bad that sounds as soon as I think it. Groaning, I go over what had happened tonight. I was with Bebe- super hot, super willing, and superficial Bebe. Things were getting hot and heavy, clothes were coming off. When the fuck did she turn into Tweek in my mind? When did that possibility even begin?

"I'm not into guys!" I yell into the empty abyss of my apartment. Just because I imagined my schizophrenic, paranoid, and utterly insane ex-best friend in the place of my blonde bombshell of a girlfriend doesn't mean jack shit. I shut my eyes and concentrate in my head on both Bebe and Tweek and their appearances and qualities. There's nothing like a good old comparison to remind me of my heterosexuality.

Bebe is about 5'6'' with long, wavy blonde hair. Tweek is probably somewhere around 5'8'' with a wild lions mane.

Bebe has crystal blue eyes, almond shaped, with long black eyelashes she curls daily. Tweek's eyes are the color of coffee after drops of milk have been put in it. His are wide and round, like owls eyes. His eyelashes, I have noticed, are quite long on their own.

Bebe has giant knockers- everyone went absolutely psychotic in grade school when she started to "grow" into her body. Her body is curvy, voluptuous, but just the right amount of thin. Her skin is a golden color that is just perfect for the blonde of her hair. When she walks she really just glides across the floor; graceful, poised, and exotic. Bebe Stevens is the epitome of all three.

Tweek Tweak, however, is lithe. Rail thin, and malnourished. His hips are tiny, and his skin is the milkiest white I have ever seen. It makes him look like a ghost sometimes. When Tweek walks he is guarded; his head is always swiveling around to take in his surroundings. He is awkward, but at times can be very elegant.

They are two different species entirely. So, why is it, when I think of Bebe I'm not as satisfied as I believed myself to be? Her boobs are too big, her skin dry from all the excessive tanning she has done, and her fingers are stubby offset by her manicured claws. Her face is a mask of makeup that she puts on every morning. She dresses like a teenage slut, and while she maintains a level of hotness, she is overall just this fake being.

Tweek is the perfect size, if not a little short for a dude. His lips are a very pretty natural pink, and a perfect cupid's bow- the bottom which would be perfect for biting… His skin is clear of all blemishes even though I doubt he gets to wash his face like a normal person; small, almost iridescent freckles pepper the bridge of his nose. Even though I have only seen them once since high school, Tweek's fingers are long piano fingers, with very short nails so he doesn't scratch himself. He doesn't do anything special, he is humble, and by God I think that is what attracts me.

Oh God. I'm attracted to Tweek. I have the hots for Tweek Tweak! This doesn't mean I'm gay right? I mean, you can have a crush on someone of the same sex because you envy something in them, or because you find them slightly attractive. It doesn't mean I want to fuck him. It just means I have…a schoolboy crush. Right? I can still be into chicks. I have been spending so much time with him he must have invaded my subconscious and just filled up everything in there. I just need to decrease my Tweek quota, and increase my….other stuff quota!

"Yeah, that'll work." I say sitting up, and looking down. But….first I gotta get rid of what the Tweek comparison has…er, "risen" out of me.

X

I didn't visit Tweek the next day; instead I stayed in bed for about four hours watching Dr. Who and eating chocolate cheerios with Clyde. I wrote about five pages of my paper for psychology, and went to class. Part of me ached to go back to the Denver State School simply because I missed my friend, but another part of me screamed that it was because I found him sexy and wanted to jump him bones.

So, I ignored my desires and took a nap. When I woke up it was 5 AM; I groan and rub my eyes. Another weird dream involving Tweek; it seems nowhere is safe. I stare at my ceiling fan and listen to Clyde's soft snores across the room. Bebe is still pissed about the other night, and so decided to stay in her room. Fine with me.

My mind whirs over the dream I'd just woken from…

X

_We're sitting in his cell, and he has his straightjacket off. We're on his bed, drinking coffee and talking. His face is alive and smiling brightly. His eyes crinkle and they even sparkle a little at the joy of being free of bonds. Of having a friend. The ward is quiet, and not even eerily so. It's peaceful, the way you cannot imagine a mental ward to be. _

"_Craig?" he asks, and my eyes find his. He is leaning forward, his face dangerously close to mine. I can feel his breath wash over my face- smelling of coffee and vanilla. His eyelids are half closed; he is looking at my neck. I feel a blush creep up my neck and rush over my cheeks. _

"_Er," I start, "Yes?" _

"_Thank you for saving me," he whispers lowly, and his eyes look up to catch mine again. My green eyes widen as I'm sucked in by his brown ones, slightly shadowed by long lashes. His hand falls on top of mine, warm and comforting. My heart is beating so fast, I really hope Tweek can't hear it thumping away madly. _

"_It was nothing," I say modestly, and meaning it, "I abandoned you in the first place. I'm just making up for it." _

"_Ahh," Tweek says, his lips nearly pressed to mine, our eyes still locked on one another's. "But, you came back, and you keep coming back. You saved me from being lonely, from spending years alone in a straightjacket, with only voices in my head to comfort me." Tweek hardly ever stutters in my dreams; his words are perfectly articulated and the way he says them makes me shiver. I shut my eyes, scared of making a move, but desperately wanting to. _

_Tweek is glowing with happiness, and it is as if a light is shining behind him. Without thinking, I reach out place a hand gingerly on the back of his head. He shuts his eyes, leans into my touch, and a soft angelic smile spreads across his lips. "Do you know how hard it is to control myself right now?" I ask, my voice whiny with desire. _

_Tweek chuckles, "I think I probably do." _

"_But, you don't want me to."_

"_I never said that," he whispers, grabbing my hand and kissing my palm, "You have to be willing to take a chance on something, Craig." _

"_What do you mean?" I asked confused. _

"_You are worried about what will happen because of your actions. Don't think. Just do. And, whatever happens will be for the best, and because you never held back what you felt." His gaze locks on mine, fiery and passionate. I gasp, pull away. _

_He has wings._

_And that's when I fall…_

X

And wake up.

Damn.

Dreams are just dreams, and I hardly put any stock into them even if I should. Should I listen to Dream-Tweek? Is he right? My eyes still trace the patterns of the whirring fan on the ceiling, my heart is still pounding, Clyde is- regrettably- still snoring. I sit up and go to take a shower.

Today I will go see Tweek. I will not hide from my problems; I'm fucking Craig Tucker. I will deal with them face to face, and I will conquer. And, maybe, if I do this, then I can move on with whatever this shit is I am feeling for Tweek. We can go back to being normal- and by "we" I mean "me" because I doubt Tweek has any more room in his head for these sort of internal debates.

Because, it's starting to feel less like a small infatuation, and more like a full-fledged crush.

X

Thermos full of mocha coconut coffee? Check.

Bag of random snacks with which to share with my friend? Check?

Manhood? Check.

I'm solid, I think, as I bust through the doors of the asylum and go through my usual check in. The nurse at the front is different today- skinny, sharper features, pissed off looking, almost skeletal with too much makeup. She casts her sharp glare on me as I walk up. "Can I help you?" her voice is nasally. I read her nametag real quickly: Trees.

"Uh, yeah. I'm here to see Tweek Tweak. I usually come every day, but yesterday I got a littler…preoccupied." I explain, hand motions and all. She raises an eyebrow, lips in a tight line.

"Sorry. Not happening." She says, and whirls her chair as to not look at me.

"Excuse me, bitch?" I snap, slamming my hands down on the counter. She peers at me over her shoulder, and files through a cabinet for a file or whatever the fuck bitches like her search for. She finally gets it, it seems, and flips through till she finds what she had been searching for. Her eyes roam the page until she locks in on something that makes her sneer at me.

"Hmph. Guess you have a sort of special treatment then." She proceeds to find my name badge and reach for my bag. I give it to her, but keep my thermos and food bag.

"What do you mean?" I clip on the nametag.

"The patient you are going to see had a break yesterday. Apparently it was very bad. He has been moved for his safety, and that of the other patients. I'll call a nurse to escort you." She then ignores the petrified look on my face and calls someone to take me to Tweek.

A….break?

He had a psychotic break?

So badly that he has to be isolated?

He had a break on the day I chickened out.

The day I should have been here for him.

My mind is going insane, at least 95 mph. I am still slightly catatonic when Greg shows up to take me to Tweek. He is quiet, even more so than normal. We walk in silence; I don't even pay attention to the path he takes me down. It isn't until I'm in front of a heavy- and I mean _heavy_- metal door that I snap back to reality.

"What happened?" I whisper, voice hoarse with shame.

"You didn't come. He panicked, ya know? Blamed himself. He waited for you all day, kid. Sat in front of his door, paced, and I heard him talkin' to himself a bunch. He was in the mess hall for once, no straightjacket, just sittin' at the lunch table. I was on duty, guardin' the place from riots, and watchin' Tweek. He kept lookin' up to see if you'd walk in.

"A few of the other inmates like to mess with him, cause he's so twitchy and all that. The flipped his lunch tray and he just sat there. He was tryin' to calm down, so he wouldn't have to go into solitary. A lotta good that did him…" he trails off, his eyes not able to catch mine. I could tell he was disappointed in me. He probably didn't blame me for what happened, but he sure as hell was upset that I could have probably prevented it.

"So, what happened then?" I had to know. Greg turned stone cold eyes on me.

"They called him names. They pushed him down off his seat. They mocked him, his condition, his hair; anything they could find to ridicule. Then they mocked you. Said you were a fake, you were never comin' back, you were _their_ friend now." He took a shuddering breath, as if it was hard to say.

When he spoke, his voice was steady but I could tell it was horrible having to remember, "Tweek was up so fast I never saw it comin'. He kicked one of the kids back, and smashed his foot into his ribcage so hard he broke four ribs; punched the other so hard in the nose blood went everywhere, and he passed out. The mess hall broke into a sorta riot. With the leaders lackeys outta the way Tweek went after him. I'll tell ya, I've never seen him like that not even when he used to have breaks.

"The leader kid tried to run out, but Tweek tackled him. He straddled the dude, kid, and repeatedly smashed his fists into his face until I couldn't tell where it began and where it ended. He had so much blood on his hands, the skin of his knuckles nearly shredded from the force of his punches, my god…" he stopped, caught his breath, looked me square in the eye.

"He kept sayin' your name, kid. Kept sayin' you were comin' back, that he wasn't crazy, that you were his _friend_. And, when we finally pulled him offa the dude, he screamed till his throat tore. We had to sedate him, and put him back in his jacket. Doctor Faithful was mad as heck; ordered him to be put in isolation and a high dose of pills until he could be evaluated again.

"The whole ordeal took about seven minutes." He finished.

My eyes were wide, I could feel them drying out due to my need to blink. But, I was horrified. Tweek- sweet, girly, paranoid, skinny Tweek- had beaten three guys to a pulp in less than ten minutes? All because they teased him about me? I didn't know whether to feel proud at him for standing up for himself like I had told him to, or guilty because if I had been there it never would have happened.

"Will…will he be okay?" I ask.

"He'll recover. You just… You can't come daily for over a month, and then just choose to not show up for a day without tellin' him somethin'. The kid has been through a lot here; his own parents don't even visit him, for fucks sake. You are helpin' him more than any pills, any doctor, and psychiatrist. He needs someone in his life that isn't a nurse or another psychotic inmate." Greg's voice is rough, and mad. He really does care about Tweek, and somewhere inside I want to hug him for his compassion to a random kid he met at a mental asylum, when his parents won't even drive down…

"Why don't his parents visit him? Have they ever?" I suddenly ask. Greg shakes his head, looks away.

"You're all he has right now. The first sign of help he has seen in three years. You are his savior, kid. Start actin' like it." I just nod, understanding that I _am_ saving him from something. I am saving him from himself, as lame as that sounds, and I don't intend to make another mistake where that is concerned. It isn't that I feel obligated, because I'm not, it's that I feel something in me roaring that this is right. That this is where I belong, and this is what I should be doing right now.

With a firm smile, I tell Greg to open the door.

X

I peek in at first, timidly. There's one light hanging high on the ceiling, the whole room is covered head to toe with pads. It's a dirty white color, much like his other room, except this one is empty, and tiny. I see a small form huddled in a corner, and I shut the door behind me while I still carry his thermos and the bag of food in my mouth.

At the sound of the doors shutting, he twitches, and mumbles loudly. His head of blonde is even dirtier than normal, and there are flecks of blood around the tips as if he had grabbed his hair in rage after beating the guy into oblivion. His head turns, he's shaking, and when he sees me his eyes widen. All of a sudden he whirls around and stands up, shaky on his legs. His coffee colored eyes are rimmed red and the usual light purple of his normal discoloration due to sleep. His lips are paler than normal, chapped, and the skin torn away in some areas because he chews his lip when he gets nervous.

He looks beautiful. I shake the thought from my head.

"H-hey, Tweek." I hold up the goodies I brought him, but he doesn't move. Doesn't blink. Just shakes, and stares blankly. "I'm sorry I wasn't here yesterday, I just got…carried away." I hate lying to him, but I'm not ready to come clean. I take another step towards him; he doesn't move. "Uh, I brought you mocha coconut coffee. It sounded pretty good. And, I brought some candies and brownies." I'm rambling, trying to fill the eerie silence of the room with idle chatter.

He mumbles something. I cannot hear it but, I know he did because I saw his lips move.

"What?"

"I said, you c-c-came back- AGH!" his eye twitches. Is it weird that I find it cute? Pushing that thought from my mind once more, I place down the items in my hand and walk up to him slowly. I make sure to do it slowly and gently so I don't scare him. I know he isn't a rabbit, but he sure acts like one.

Once I'm in front of him, I look down at him trying to catch his eyes. He is avoiding mine, looking angrily to the side. "I'm sorry, Tweek." I say, and I want to hug him. He scoffs, but says nothing even as the hard pressed look on his face falls away revealing something softer. Something broken, and quite sad. I still cannot catch his eyes, but I do the first thing I had thought of.

I pull him into a hug.

He goes stiff in my arms, obviously not able to hug back or push me away due to his arms being wrapped up like a pretzel. He is warm against my chest; his head in pushed into my chest, and I can feel him breathing hard and nervously there. One hand rests on the back on his head while the other is on his back, keeping him to me securely. He doesn't smell bad, just like coffee and vanilla, but with a hint of hospital looming there.

I can feel Tweek's heart pounding against my own. And after a while his heart and mine begin to beat to the same rhythm. He goes slightly limp, letting me hug him, and even getting closer to my body. In this moment I feel more alive than I have in… I don't know how long. This feels right, and I don't want it to end. I place my chin on his head, and let out a sigh, "I'm so sorry Tweek. I shouldn't have done that to you…"

Shouldn't have done what? Abandoned him in high school? Left him alone yesterday? Hugged him this way? I'm starting to realize something about myself: I may not be all that invincible. At least not when it comes to this messed up, lion-headed kid.

Suddenly he wriggles and pulls back, his eyebrows are knitted in confusion, his lower lip is trembling and a moment later he begins to chew on it. I stare down at him, and my lips tug into a smile. His eyes widen, "W-w-what are you s-smiling about, GAH!" I just bend down very close so that our lips barely brush.

"I'm taking a chance, Tweek." And I press my lips to his.

X

TBC. Reviews are love. Hope you liked it! I didn't read it over, so I hope it's not too shabby! . Input please: what would you think if I did a Tweek's POV chapter? Just curious. :3


	8. Chapter 7

In advance, I wish to thank all of you for your kind reviews that compelled me to get this next chapter out! It was hard to write. Please enjoy!

X

Invincible

Chapter 7

X

Previously: I stare down at him, and my lips tug into a smile. His eyes widen, "W-w-what are you s-smiling about, GAH!" I just bend down very close so that our lips barely brush. "I'm taking a chance, Tweek." And I press my lips to his.

"**Weep Little Lion Man,  
You're not as brave as you were at the start  
Rate yourself and rake yourself,  
Take all the courage you have left  
Wasted on fixing all the problems  
That you made in your own head" Little Lion Man, Mumford and Sons.**

I was kissing Tweek Tweak, and it was perfect.

I don't really use that word, as few things are perfect in this world, and even in my extra-awesome life. Things like watching the sunrise with friends on top of a hill after pulling an all-nighter; things like getting that class you wanted that fills up super-fast in college; things like getting all the presents you wanted, _plus_ a puppy for Christmas; things like a _mother fucking cheeseburger_ from McDonalds after you've come back from Peru.

Things like kissing Tweek Tweak.

It wasn't anything extraordinary, and then again it was. His lips were drawn into a thin line, his body tense, shoulders stiff and slightly raised in the act of being shocked to stone. His eyes were open in complete shock, brown orbs trembling. I tilted my head, shut my eyes, and kept my hands on the sides of his face to hold him there. It was sweet; he tasted like vanilla bean Frappuccino's and winter. I could feel his heart pulsing rapidly, like hummingbirds in his ribcage, going absolutely bonkers. I smiled into the kiss.

My fingers became entangled in his golden locks, and I pulled back slightly to inhale his scent. I sighed, and pulled back to look at him, my hands still mussed in his lions mane. His eyes were still wide, unblinking. His lips peeled open slightly, and his breath came out ragged and washing over my face.

"Hey," I whisper, stroking his locks. He blinks, a light flush coloring his cheeks. His eyes then dart all over my face, his brown knitted as if in thought. I wonder what he is thinking; if I ask would he tell me? I bite my bottom lip, craving to kiss him again but I hold back. I hold steady.

He gulps, eyes downcast, face red as a cherry. Then he speaks, "W-what-GAH! What was t-t-that? Ngh…" his voice is soft, and I wonder if I did the wrong thing...if I offended him, or hurt him more than I meant to. That wasn't my intention; I just wanted to see what it was like. If my dreams were comparable to reality.

And, oh God, they were.

"Uh," I stammer, dropping my hands from his face, and he flinches while backing into the padded wall even more. "I just…. I just wanted to kiss you."

"OH GOD!" he screams, and I jump like a cat on a hot tin roof. "Oh fucking God! GAH! W-what did you do that for? You fucking didn't come yesterday, dude! T-th-then you just come in and kiss me! What are you trying to do? Infect me or something? Ngh…" he twitches, becoming anxious. I back up, and he begins to pace and mumble to himself.

"Listen, Tweek, I'm not trying to infect you. I'm real sorry…" Sorry doesn't even begin to describe it, I think bitterly. His head whips around, eyes narrowed with tears threatening to pour down his cheeks. The anger in his eyes is offset by the betrayal I can see. His whole body is trembling with feeling. I take a step forward; I am ready to deal with anything he can throw at me. I deserve it.

And then suddenly his head is buried in my chest, his shoulders sagging and tears streaking down his cheek into my hoodie. I feel my heart rate increase, blush running up my neck to my face. He sobs into my chest, hard, his shoulders racked with sobs. Slowly I bring my arms up and wrap them around the body before me. He tenses, then shivers and relaxes into the embrace. I bury my face in the mane of his hair.

I speak softly to him, trying to calm him down until his shoulders stop shaking, and his sobs stop coming out. He hiccoughs, and looks up at me with red rimmed eyes. "I-I thought you were w-w-w-with them. Ngh…" he stammers.

"Ssh. Don't talk, Tweek."

"N-no!" he snaps defiantly. "Y-you need to hear it from me-GAH!" He looks so fierce and so small in his straightjacket with that hard pressed look. I try to pull away from him and he just scoots closer, murmuring to himself.

"D-do you want to go sit down, kid?" I ask, trying to sound normal but my voice shakes. I know Greg's side, but I don't know Tweek's. I've never heard Tweek's side of anything before; he usually avoids talking about it, taking any chance to change the subject. And now he wants to tell me? I mean, it isn't his past, it isn't why he is in here, but it is something.

It is progress, and the least I can do is sit with him like a good friend and listen. So, I help him to a corner of the cell, and help him sit down without falling like a turtle on his back or side. He is quiet for a few seconds as he gets comfortable by my side with his knees pulled tightly to his chest. I watch him out the corner of my eye: he wipes his eyes on his shoulders as best he can, and takes one, two, three shuddering breaths before looking up at the ceiling.

My eyes lock on his neck, and I bite my lip to keep myself in control.

"I-I waited for you all day. I thought you w-w-were just late, and it didn't bother me till they talked to me…ngh." He twitches, trying to keep his voice from breaking or stuttering. "I was f-f-fine-ack!- in my room, and fine in the cafeteria… T-then _they_ came back." His eyes widened, stared off into nothing.

"Who's 'they', Tweek?"

"The voices, ngh. Th-the ones who tell me I'm n-n-n-nothing, and use-useless. They aren't around as much when you are h-here-GAH!" a light blush peppers his cheeks as he says this, and I feel pride swell in me at this. I smirk and let the feeling surge through me. I'm awesome. "And, they w-were telling me all these bad things…" he trails off, his voice now soft and kind of cracked. He shook a little, twitched a little more and groaned.

I touched the top of his head and tousled his hair. A soft sigh escaped his cracked lips, and he began to talk again. "They were s-saying that you had abandoned m-m-me, ngh… That you didn't give a s-sh-shit! I tried so hard to block it out, t-to think of happy things… like seeing you again, gah…" his eyes averted mine; he stiffened under my touch at the confession. It didn't turn me away. "T-then those g-g-guys-GAH!- showed up and started s-s-shit. Ngh… I l-lost control, Craig."

Silence. I look down at him to find he is staring right at me. His face is dangerously close to mine, his usually wide, innocent eyes now harsh and narrowed in the seriousness of the situation. "The voices grew louder, they were screaming so loud my head t-throbbed," his voice hardly wavers, he hardly stutters. "I've had issues with these guys before; they were the ones who picked on me. Th-th-they weren't the same guys, Craig. They…." He gulped and shook. His eyes welled with unshed tears, and I pulled him into a tentative hug.

He inhales, "They had black eyes, all rimmed in dark blue. Their jaws were broken, they had teeth made out of broken glass, and their fingernails were long and broken in places. Their skin was sallow, and yellow, and all sunken in. They t-t-told me that you were one of them, that you were w-w-with them. That I was nothing. Not compared to them…

"The voices were screaming. The monsters were getting closer; they were going to attack me- OH GOD! They were going to eat my liver, and play around in my blood! NGH." He starts to panic, and hyperventilate but he doesn't stop his rant. "I couldn't let them do that, Craig. I just couldn't. I attacked them- gah! I fucking attacked them, Craig!" he looks at me desperate for answers, for a resolution. For forgiveness.

"Hey, calm down, Tweek-"

"No! I c-can't! I hit them so hard. I felt their bones crunch, and I beat the leader until his blood got all s-s-soaked on my hands. I'm fucking insane, Craig! I can't do any-anything r-r-r-right. What is wrong with me? Y-you were only gone for a day- ngh…" his voice fades to nothing. His forehead now resting against my chest.

My heart is pounding so fast. He saw monsters? Hallucinations? The voices came back? Oh shit, this cannot be good. I reach for him with shaky hands and hug him. He tenses then, sensing no threat, goes limp once more in my arms. "There's nothing wrong with you, Tweek." The words flow easily because they are completely true.

"Why d-d-does this k-keep happening to me-GAH!" he whines.

"Because something happened to you that you can't let go of. Something you are still paying for. You don't have to tell me now; you tell me when you are ready. But, I'm going to help you. I'm not going to leave you again. I promise."

He mumbled something unintelligible against me, and I just rubbed his back soothingly. We sat in silence for a while, and then he pulled back and spoke, "Why-why did you k-k-k-k-" he stammered over the last word. It seems he isn't going to give this up, even though I gave him a simple answer earlier. I felt my eyes widen, and my face grow hot. Oh, fuck. I look over his face and notice his pale skin is flushed pink, and his hazel eyes are wide and wondering.

"Why did I kiss you?"

"Y-yeah, ngh…" he looks away. I bite my lip nervously. I'm not going to lie to him. No. I can't. It isn't fair to him, it isn't right of me to do that to him either. After all I've already put him through? After all the tiny cracks I've started to see in my little invincible shell, I'm starting to think I need to reassess my life a little.

Less lies. More truth.

"I wanted to. I was taking someone's advice, actually." I simply say. Again. His brow furrows in confusion.

"You w-wanted to?" he sounds disbelieving. I don't blame him.

"Yeah. You got a problem with that?" my voice is haughty and I'm feeling slightly relieved at the weight off my chest. His eyes widen again and stay that way for a while, and then he starts to laugh a little. Then, he starts to laugh a lot. Now it's my turn to look shocked. Instead of rage or tears, he is laughing and it is a wonderful sound. I'm so caught up in hearing this melodious sound from him that I don't notice it being a mockery of me. When his laughter dies down, I glare and try to hide the fact that I'm embarrassed.

He smiles at me, his crooked little smile with his hair framing his face delicately. I'm caught up in him, again. "S-s-sorry, Craig. But that is the dumbest- GAH!- thing you've ever said, ngh." He replies to me. I scoff, look away in silent anger. It isn't even really anger- it's the fact that someone doesn't want _me_ for once the way I want them. I'm Craig mother-fucking Tucker; I'm young, hot, and smart, and a little bit dangerous. Though not as rock hard as previously thought, I'm still a damn good catch. He should feel flattered if anything, but he doesn't seem to be. He's making fun of me! Right under my nose, that ass. Then I hear him mumble my name.

I turn my head quickly, ready for a nasty retort when he leans in and kisses me back.

X

Fluff chapter is fluffy. I hate this chapter, but it needed to be written. . I hope you like it. I tried to get Tweek to talk more, to tell his side for once. And I wanted Craig to be all pouty at some point. :P I hope it was to your liking. Please review! Next chapter, things start to get even better.


	9. Chapter 8

Invincible

Chapter 8

X

Previously: Then I hear him mumble my name. I turn my head quickly, ready for a nasty retort when he leans in and kisses me back.

"**If I go crazy, then will you still call me superman? If I'm alive and well, will you be there holding my hand?" Kryptonite- 3 Doors Down.**

Mr. Registar is handing back the rough draft of our papers. Clyde is drumming his fingers on the table, obviously nervous. He gnaws his bottom lip so hard I'm not surprised that it starts to bleed and bruise, and his eyes are everywhere but our professor. Clyde likes to act like he doesn't give a toad's ass about school, but grades are almost as important to him as they are to me.

"You're going to bite a hole if you keep chewing like that," I growl, his mannerisms becoming overly obnoxious. Mr. Registar is near our seats, and Clyde's habits hit a crescendo. He nearly snatches his manila folder from his hands, and opens it like it's a secret code from the FBI. Mr. Register, baffled and kind of scared by the reaction, sidles over to me and gently hands me mine. "Thanks, professor." I say under my breath.

He grins lopsidedly, "Your report was very good, Craig. Very in depth, very detailed. How are you getting along with your patient? It seemed like you've had some rough patches." My face flushes; I had written little about the more intimate moments with Tweek- such as the breakdowns and the face-bashing of douche fucks. I did, however, put in the smaller though no less important moments such as his pill dosage lessening, and his being able to get out of his straightjacket for more than a few hours at a time.

I felt proud of my paper, at least the ten pages I'd already had done. It was nice to see someone else appreciate it, but it was also somewhat invading for me to have him read about what I considered my special moments with Tweek. And, by special moments I don't mean anything sexual, you perverts. I mean just anything we share; it feels private, and I want it to be all mine. But, if I didn't put something I'd surely fail.

"Oh, well, yeah." I shrug. "I guess we have, but he's really cool. I knew him from high school, actually."

His eyebrows rise in curiosity. "Really? That's very interesting, Craig. I cannot wait to see how this all pans out." A tentative smile, then he returns to the podium and acquires the classes attention. I glance at Clyde to my right, and he is face down in his folder. Probably hoping to drown in his own woes. "Congratulations to those of you who got a good grade. To the others, you need to shape up. Winter break is coming up in a week, so you all need to keep working on it over the break. I cannot emphasize this enough." His voice is warning, but still light enough to not send us into panic mode.

He finishes up his lecture, but I'm not paying attention. Class is dismissed and Clyde raises his head to look at me wearily. "Don't look at me like that," I snipe. I gather my books, and stuff them hastily into my backpack. Clyde gets up lethargically, and follows me out of the building keeping behind me at a slow pace.

"Dude, my patient is insane."

"Yeah, that's who they usually put in asylums, Clyde. Pity they let you out."

He scoffs, "You are such a douche." I flip him off and laugh to myself. We climb the stairs to our room, and when we unlock the door and walk in I freeze. Clyde bumps into me, and kinda falls a little. "Dude, why'd you stop?" He peeks over my shoulder and I feel him tense and try to slink away.

"No, Clyde. Stay." Standing in the doorway of our bathroom is Bebe Stevens. Her usually curly hair is straightened and tied up in a messy bun, with a few tendrils framing her face. Her eyes are narrowed, darkened by mascara and eyeliner. Her lips are pursed, shiny and red with some sort of lipgloss; her arms are crossed over her chest, squeezing her already giant breasts even more together. She's wearing a purple midriff halter, her perfect abs showing, her curves out there for the world to see; her jeans hug her body tightly, cut low like most girls jeans, and on her feet are black flats.

She glares. "Craig. We need to talk."

Oh, shit. I'd been dreading this for a week, this confrontation. It has been a week since my kiss with Tweek Tweak in his solitary cell at Denver State School. A week since I'd run out on Bebe during copulation, and I hadn't spoken to her since. Tweek had asked if I had a girlfriend, rather shyly with his face lighting up brightly, after a few more pecks. Begrudgingly I had told him the truth: that I was dating Bebe Stevens, and that, no, I hadn't cut it off.

He proceeded to freak out about crazy, homicidal ex-girlfriends who would sneak into his cell and suck his soul out because he had been helping a person cheat. He then took to calling her a succubus, and looking over his shoulder every five seconds. It took upwards of an hour to calm him down, and reassure him that Bebe didn't even know he existed anymore.

Finally, after he had calmed, he told me that he wouldn't ever kiss me again unless I was single. He didn't want to help me cheat, and his conscious wouldn't allow him to either way. I see his point; I don't like to think of myself as a cheater. I cannot say I regret it, because I don't. At all. So, I had made a plan to break up with Bebe this week, however not all things go as planned.

I avoided this bitch like the plague.

But, it seems she found me, and now there was no running. I straightened up as tall as I could, stared her down. "Hello, Bebe. How are you?" she narrowed her eyes dangerously, cocks her hip and places her hands on them defensively.

"Oh, you know. I'm just curious as to why my _boyfriend_ is avoiding me." She spits out the words, venomous and sharp. I cringe, but try to stay strong. I'm not going to let her push me around; she's a girl for fucks sake. "You haven't been answering my calls. You've been avoiding me like the plague. Disappearing to that fucking…._freak-show_ of an asylum! For hours at a time. What the hell is your deal, Craig Tucker? You enjoy spending time with that little psycho fucker more than with me?"

"Bebe, shut your whore mouth." I snarl, clenching my jaw so hard my teeth start to hurt. Her eyes go wide, her jaw slacking a little. She has never fought with me. Our relationship is based on sex, partying, and not giving a fuck. We've never fought before; she sure picks the wrong fucking things to say to me when she decides to. "You don't know the first thing about that place, so shut the fuck up or else."

One more her eyes narrow, she licks her lips, cocks her head, "Or else what?" Challenging me? She's actually fucking trying to challenge me?

Challenge accepted, bitch.

"Or I'll let Clyde have the pictures you gave me for my birthday last year. And, when Clyde gets a hold of them you will need to fucking prey to whatever slut-ass God you believe in that they don't find their way back to your parents." I finish with a hiss. Clyde is still behind me, and he stares holes in the back of my head. I ignore him and focus on my girlfriend.

She's fuming. "You wouldn't dare."

"Bet me." I retort bitterly. "Now, this isn't exactly the way I had planned for this little reunion to come about, but you've obviously left me with no choice. I'm dumping you. You are a bitch, you smell like you bathed in whale bile, your lips look horrendous with all that gunk on them, your outfits look like they come from whores-r-us, you have the personality of a wet sponge. I have lost all attraction to you. Get out of my apartment, and have a great life." When I'm done with my tirade her jaw in clenched tightly, tears welling in the corner of her eyes. I cannot wait to see her mascara run.

Her body trembles, but there are no tears. She holds them back, gulps and shuts her eyes. I raise my eyebrows; Clyde asks what she's doing. I only shrug. Finally she opens her eyes and there are no tears. Her eyes are alive with rage; she holds her head high, fixes her top and flips her hair. "Fine, Craig. You can go fuck yourself. I hope your happy, you little asshole. Call me when you realize you goofed." She storms past me, smelling of too much perfume and skank. I wrinkle my nose in disgust, and turn to face her in the doorway.

"I won't. See, that's the thing, I've already found someone. Toodle-loo." I slam the door in her face and lock it. Clyde, who had slunk in like a cat, was sitting on his bed with the biggest eyes I'd ever seen. I flip him off and make my way to my bed. "God, I hate women." I groan, pulling a pillow over my face and kicking off my sneakers. I hear Clyde's ragged breathing.

"Dude," he says, "You're a hardcore asshole. Holy fuck. You are a badass. What made you that angry?" He laughs, obviously amused at how much of a prick I can be when I get mad. I think about it while he chuckles to himself; what _did_ make me that mad? Maybe it was the fact that she just disgusts me with her fakeness. Maybe it's because she confronted me, and I hate confrontations. I'm not a violent or usually angry person. I haven't gotten that riled up since high school when I was a rude little shit itching for a fight every few seconds.

I think I got mad because she called the asylum a freak-show. I understand how she makes that connection, but Tweek is there. And, he isn't a freak…she even attacked him personally, though she didn't know it was him. I guess that hit me where it hurt, and I flew into asshole mode. Either way, the deed is done.

I'm free to do whatever I want with the lion in the cage.

X

"A-aah," Tweek moans out with his back arching up. He's out of his straightjacket; his hands are trembling nervously, tangled in my hair. I crash my lips back to his, run my tongue over his lips and he lets out a shuddering gasp, allowing me entrance into his mouth. My hands trail down, grab onto his waist and feel the sharpness of his hipbones against the pads of my palms. He's too skinny, he needs to eat real people food- asylum food is just blended up tar and wood chippings with decorative toppings.

He bites my lip gently, whimpering against me, moving his hands down to rest on the back of my neck. I pull back, kiss down his chin to his throat. He arches his back again, shaking, and exposes his throat for me. I nip at the skin, run my tongue over the small vein pulsing there, and then blow on the saliva to give it a cool sensation. "G-gahh, Craig!" he whines, his voice deep with lust. I press my lips back, and begin to bite and suck.

"You okay?" I mumble against slick skin.

"Hnnnn…" is his unintelligible reply. I pull away to look down at him. His hair is splayed over the dirty floor, his face red with heat, lips swollen from kissing. His black, long-sleeved shirt has risen up his abdomen, showing the pale skin hidden down there. His eyes flutter open and gaze at me heatedly. I smirk, stroke a strand of hair out of his face. "W-what? Ngh, d-d-d-don't st-stop." He complains, trying to pull me back down with the hands that have wrapped around my neck. Too bad I'm stronger than he is, and I push his hands away and roll over to lie next to him.

"That's enough for today."

"I'm n-not done, asshole." He growls, glaring at me while pouting his bottom lip.

I chuckle, "I am. Good things come to those who wait, man." I put my arms behind my head to cushion it from the floor. Tweek sighs, giving up the ghost, and lays his head on my chest and curls up like a cat next to my body. He twitches and squeaks softly every few minutes, until he gains control of his breathing and then just rests quietly.

We lay in the comfortable silence; that's another thing I like about Tweek. He doesn't feel the need to come up with bullshit just to fill the emptiness. He's just as content with being in the company of the person without having to make up something as I am. I start to doze off, my eyes shut and mind hazy from lust.

"Do you believe in God?" Tweek asks, almost inaudible. My eyes shoot open. He's hovering above me, propped up on his elbows. I didn't even feel him get off of me. His hazel eyes are flashing with seriousness, he nibbles on his bottom lip.

I sit up, ruffle my hair and yawn. "What do you mean? That's a weird question."

"N-no, it isn't," he retaliates, looking down at his hands. "Gah! A l-lot of people do. I just w-w-wanted to s-see what you thought-ngh." His face brightens up with color. I just stare at him with an amused smirk. He glowers, and fiddles with his hands. All of a sudden he grabs onto his hair hard, pulls, and screams, "Oh GOD! That wa-was so f-f-fuckig dumb, ngh!"

I lunge at him and push him back; his hands fly up to grab onto my shirt as he is pushed back to the floor. He hits it with an audible _thwump_, and his eyes snap shut. Tweek's lips twist into pain, while his brow furrows as he probably has a headache coming on. I sigh, my nose touching his and brush away the bangs from his forehead before softly stroking his cheeks. "Don't do that," I growl. He whimpers like a child, mumbles his apology. I kiss his nose and he opens one eye slightly, pouting.

"I don't believe in God." I ask as I pull him up. He wraps his arms around my neck and hugs me tightly as he crawls into my lap. I gulp and go red. His lips nuzzle my neck, his breath sending shivers all over my body. "I used to, I think, a long time ago. But, too many things happened for me to believe anymore…" my voice trails off, as I stroke his lion's mane gently.

I like these small moments together. They are peaceful. They are quiet. They are perfect. They are no one else's. I don't have to share. Which is good, because I fucking hate sharing.

He sighs, "I do."

"You _do_?" I ask, my voice shocked because of all people I doubt Tweek would. He has been screwed over far too much to believe in some deity, some figment of imagination. I'm not opposed to the idea of a higher power; whatever you want to believe in, go for it. It just isn't me. I'm floored by Tweek's response. I guess I just really don't understand it. "Why?"

His answer stops me dead in my tracks. "Because I've seen the devil."

My eyes go wide as saucers; he looks up at me with so much seriousness. His voice was even as he said the words, no stammering, no twitching, and no outbursts. He clenches his jaw, and crawls out of my lap and towards the opposite wall. I watch him go, too stunned to do anything. "If there is a devil, there has to be a God to keep him at bay. At least, the way I see it." He shrugs, as if his opinion doesn't matter. I wonder if he has ever told anyone this before…

"When did you see the devil, Tweek?" I ask, my mouth dry as a desert. Shit is getting heavy, I'm trying to handle it. Hell, if I can handle his outbursts and his psychotic breaks I can handle a little divine discussion. Right? Er, right.

He takes a breath, his eyes glazed over with the ghost of a memory. "Before I got sent here." He brings his knees to his chest and wraps his wiry arms around them for security. "I see it every night, every time I c-close my eyes." He begins to shiver, but I'm stuck in place and I cannot reach out to him. His eyes are locked on his dirty, oversized socks. He rocks back and forth, brings his hands up to his face, near his temples, on either side of his head. His breathing escalates; he rocks faster as the memory swells back. "He's a big man, with a large smile and dark hair. His teeth are rotted, and even in that state they were sharp, powerful. His s-skin was pale; his fingernails j-j-jagged, his eyes were red slits. When he smiled they crinkled, oh _Jesus_! He moved w-w-with s-such grace, it was inhuman. His voice sounded familiar, but I c-couldn't place it, ngh… He t-told me I'd rot here, he is w-w-when the voices started. He put them in my h-head. Tweek's crazy head…" he trails off, his voice cracking.

_He's_ cracking. But, I'm so scared I cannot move. The way he is describing this vision shocks me; it's scarier than any horror movie I've seen, more so than any true crime novel I've read. My mind screams at me to help him, for God's sake, help him! But, my body won't let me move; it hardly lets me blink. "T-tweek, chill out. It isn't real." I say, albeit quietly.

Tweek's eyes shoot to mine, anger welling in those brown orbs. His nails dig into the flesh near his eyes, and small drop of blood being to pop out along his face. "Not…._real_? I s-see this every night, Craig. _Every time_ I shut my eyes, he is there. _Laughing_ at me. Crazy, little Tweek. Thinks it's so funny how he is trying to get better," he mocks the apparent voices with disgust. It's twisted on his face. Then there are trickles of blood, and I notice he is raking his nails over his eyes, repeatedly.

My body unfreezes, and many things happen in a very small amount of time. First, I see Tweek scratching the skin from the middle of his forehead, over his eyes, and down to his cheeks in rapid succession. Second, I lunge at him and grab his hands while screaming for a nurse. Third, Tweek is hissing and yowling at me in anger, spittle dripping out of his mouth as he tries to yell above me. I try to calm him down: I stroke his hair as I keep both of his hands tightly in one of mine, I kiss his face, I try to wipe the blood off and keep it from dripping into his eyes. Two male nurses burst in.

They start screaming and calling for a doctor. Tweek is wrenched from my grip, he then turns on them and thrashes violently. The inmates on the ward start to copy him: mimicking his voice, his words, rattling their plates against the bars, slamming into walls. I watch them take him down the hall, with him raging all the way until they are only echoes.

Sharp clicks against the floor silence the other inmates who shirk back into their caves. Doctor Faithful arrives a moment later as I'm dusting myself off. She cocks her head in mock interest, "Patient causing _more_ trouble?" She clicks her tongue.

I flip her off. "Bitch."

"Such a vile little beast." I can't tell who she is talking about. I push past her and walk in the direction I assume they took Tweek- the infirmary. Behind me I hear Doctor Faithful tapping her heels on the linoleum, and humming. "What happened this time, Craig? If I may be so bold to ask."

I stop; my shoulders tense momentarily. "He said he saw the devil." I mumble lowly, but apparently she can hear- fucking harpy that she is. I start to walk away again, this time at a faster pace. Before I turn the corner I hear her talk out loud,

"Interesting. Very interesting, Craig."

X

He's back in his jacket when I arrive. Greg is standing guard and, after some convincing, lets me in to see him. His head doesn't move from where it is hung against his chest. I shut the door quietly, and walk over to him. I watch Tweek stiffen, but he remains still. I bend down to look up at him. His eyes are watery, the scratches beginning to scab over. They didn't even wash off all the blood and it crusts on his perfect pale skin.

"Hey, man." I say with a half-assed grin. His eyes lock on mine and his lips twitch ever so slightly. "They didn't even clean you up." I say absentmindedly, and get up to go over to the sink in the back of the room. I take a bunch of paper towels off the roll and put lukewarm water on it then walk back over to Tweek. I put my hand under his chin to lift his head. He complies without any coaxing, but remains stoic.

I clean off the rest of the caked blood, and throw it to the floor. His eyes are dull, but locked on mine. I feel my heartbeat increase. Gently, I grab hold of his face and bring his lips to mine. That small kiss is worth a thousand words, at least in my opinion. He whines as I pull away and leans toward my retreating form. "Talk to me, Tweek. I'm not letting you regress. I believe you when you say you saw the devil, I do. I'm sorry that had to happen," I say weakly, rubbing the back of my neck nervously.

He scoffs, "It's my f-f-fault-GAH!"

"Shut up." I snarl, and he flinches, and then squeaks loudly. "Sorry…" I sit down next to him, and ruffle his hair, because it is all I can think to do. We sit in silence; the only true sound is the labored breathing and occasional ticks Tweek has.

"I r-really like you," he whispers, scooting closer and placing his head on my shoulder. I smile to myself.

"You too," I reply.

"I want t-t-to tell you w-why I'm here. GAH! Just, p-p-promise me you won't l-l-l-leave me- like everyone e-else…JESUS!" he starts to freak out a little, moving his head and twitching with panic. I grab his shoulders to stop him. I don't run from my problems, not anymore. I don't run from him. I think I need him the way he needs me. So, I'm not going anywhere, and I think I get that point across with the look I give him because he blushes and licks his lips.

He takes a shuddering breath as I prepare myself. In the most serious voice I've ever heard from him he says,

"I've killed someone."

Oh. Fuck.

X

No flamers for the religious parts in this. They are for plot only, and in no way reflect how I feel. So, no one get offended. If you do, I'm very sorry as it isn't my intention. Just wanted to get this out of the way, thank you!

Many thanks for all the reviews. You all make me so happy. I've never had a story this popular with such loyal followers. Please keep reading and reviewing. I love you all so much.


	10. Chapter 9

Hit a road block in writing. Then this came out. I know where I want to go with this, but it's just difficult to write it. Hope you like it! Thanks to those who are still with me! Please, review! :D

x

Invincible

Chapter 9

X

Previously: "I want t-t-to tell you w-why I'm here. GAH! Just, p-p-promise me you won't l-l-l-leave me- like everyone e-else…JESUS!" I'm not going anywhere, and I think I get that point across with the look I give him because he blushes and licks his lips. He takes a shuddering breath as I prepare myself. In the most serious voice I've ever heard from him he says, "I've killed someone." Oh. Fuck.

_I'm back in South Park, or at least…what resembles South Park. I glance down at my feet, sunken into the new, plush carpet of snow that's just fallen- and that is still falling. I stick out my tongue and in turn catching a few way ward flakes. The snow is perfect, untouched my man and animal. Not even footprints are behind me- and this is how I know this is a dream. Or something. _

_I'm near the woods, and the small Colorado town is displayed for all to see from this point. Starks Pond to my left, the road out to my right. All of a sudden a yellow blur rushes past me, down the street heading into town. Blonde, splayed hair bouncing in a matted mess, hazel eyes wide with worry, lips red from gnawing them nervously and breath coming out in smoky, cold wisps of air. _

_Ladies and gentleman, the paranoid, the terrified, the beautiful: Tweek Tweak. He barrels past me, not even noticing I'm there. Suddenly my feet take off with my brain unaware of its plan. I'm right behind him running in long strides, full force. But, he is fast and still far ahead of me. I can hear him squealing and mumbling loudly to himself. Words like: he'll kill me, oh shit, I better hurry. 'Oh man' is repeated a lot too. He bolts up to a mauve colored house that I know only too well- the house of one Leopold "Butters" Stotch. _

_Tweek knocks loudly and rapidly, his raps sounding like a fast paced song more than an acknowledgement of simply being at the door. Butters appears in the doorway moments later- taller, still gangly, and still smiling idiotically, but inexplicably grown from the small boy I have always identified him with. "H-hey, Tweek!" he waves, cocking his head and smiling. "Everyone else is already here! Come on in," his voice is still high pitched, and he twiddles his fingers like he always did in school. I follow in behind Tweek, nothing more than a shadow. The boy is nervous, but he is smiling and breathing deeply in an attempt to calm down. His face is flushed, and his skin is tinted blue from the cold- at least his lips are. I bite mine; hold back a moan as I imagine those lips. _

_Now is not the time Craig! my brain screams. I completely agree. We three- Butter, Tweek, and myself aka Mr. Cellophane- enter Butter's living room. This is when I realize this is after high school, probably the beginning of the fall after graduation judging from the weather. In the room were most of the people I knew to be staying in South Park for work, or going to college in the next town over and then there were some I knew from my own college. There was Eric Cartman- smug as usual, though none the slimmer-, Kenny McCormick- sidekick to a sociopathic asshole, and lecher of our lives-, Butter, of course- all smiles, and slim limbs-, Pip Pirrup- undeniably British, and still wearing those damn pink socks- and of course Stan Marsh and Kyle Broflovski. They all sit on Butters floor, in a circle as if this were a pow wow. _

_I sit behind Tweek, staring at the back of his twitchy little head. He has his knees to his chest, and his back hunched to circle his arms around his knees. I can see his spine sticking out under his flannel shirt. I want to hold him, but I know it isn't possible. Suddenly Kyle speaks up, "Okay! Everyone since this is one of the last times we'll meet I hope you all got the gifts." There is a small murmur through the crowd and people rifle through backpacks or purses or simply reach behind them and pull out packages. "Since we won't all be together like this again anytime soon, please give your gift to whoever's name you drew out of the hat." Kyle picks up his gift- a meticulously and perfectly wrapped blue package and hands it to Butters who smiles happily and squeals, "Oh goody!" _

_Stan gives his to Kyle._

_Pip gives his to Stan. _

_Butters gave his to Cartman._

_Tweek gives his to Kenny._

_And, finally, Cartman gives his to Tweek. The lion-headed boy blinks, and nervously takes the package with trembling hands. "T-t-t-thank you, Eric- OH GOD!" he shrieks, and unsurprisingly no one jumps; all are too used to it by now. The only one without a present in hand is Pip, and Kyle turns his emerald glare to Kenny who had obviously drawn the name. The poor boy, however, is too busy examining Tweek's gift- a box filled with coffee and accessories that apply to making and drinking coffee such as a mug, spoons, and cookies. _

"_Kenny, you fuck ass!" Stan snarls, but McCormick just shrugs. _

"_I don't have any money, you fuck wads. My bad, Pipsqueak," he says without much care in his voice. The Brit just shrugs, his eyes averted but obviously hurt. "This looks awesome, Tweek. Thanks!" Kenny says with his most charming grin. I see Tweek's face go pink, and a bubble of rage swells within me. He stares down at the plain wrapped package in his hands and gently tears at the edges. Cartman is grinning like a loon, and I get the feeling he's being a bastard secretly. _

_I look as everyone else, minus Pip, opens up their gifts. Kyle gave Butters a book, and what looked like a knitted scarf with a rabbit on the end. He immediately wraps it around his neck, and I get a flashback to seeing him walk across campus with it on. Stan got Kyle a giant photo album and inside was what I could only assume was a montage of their lives- fags, they weren't even going to different colleges. But Kyle smile softly and that look in his eyes was the same one Tweek would give me. I gulped, feeling ashamed at my inner thoughts of calling them "fags" only moments ago. _

_Pip gave Stan a giant American flag, and a new poof-ball cap completely similar to the one he wore now, only not as dingy. He thanked Pip happily and rubbed the cloth of the new hat fondly. Cartman opens his gift from Butters to find a homemade picture of him and Butters holding hands and smiling. Cartman visibly grimaced, but then saw the old stack horror movies under the photo and lit up, "W-o-w! Thanks, Butters." His face spread into a wide grin, like a toad, and Butters just smiled and played with his scarf some more. _

_Finally I saw Tweek gingerly unwrap the present and lay the paper aside cleanly. His hands trembled, he was obviously nervous about getting a present, let alone one from Cartman. Who can blame him? When I snap back from glowering at Cartman I see Tweek holding a medium sized box labeled, "Property of Tweek Tweak. Chocolates that go great with coffee!" in Eric's neatest handwriting, I can only assume. Tweek pops off the top and inside it looks like any candy box- assorted chocolates of all shapes, sizes, and colors splayed on dark brown and black paper, glistening as if plastic. _

"_Wow, Eric! Did you make them?" Butters asked, admiring the work and I have to admit…they did look good. _

"_Yup. Found a cookbook of my mom's and decided, why not? For such a good friend." He adds, his voice dripping. Pip looks over Tweek's shoulder at them and inhales softly. _

"_They look delightful, chap." He comments, and Tweek jumps at the noise, but he smiles genuinely. Everyone in the room seems to agree, but goes straight back to their own gifts, with Butters grabbing Pip's arm to help him retrieve food from the kitchen. Tweek traces the pads of his fingers over the food, obviously unsure about them but pleased either way. It wasn't every day you got a present from Eric Cartman that didn't include your parents. _

_Eric scooted over next to Tweek and began to explain his present, making Tweek very nervous and even more jumpy. "There are dark chocolate ones, and milk chocolate. Some have caramel, most have almond in them." He points out each one, and Tweek flinches- probably thinking about how dirty those fat fingers are, and how he'll have to wash them all before eating them. _

"_I-I'm allergic t-t-t-to almonds…, ngh." Tweek comments softly, face visibly falling. Eric's mouth twitches, and I can see the hamster wheel that is his mind churning. _

"_Oh," he says dryly, "My bad."_

"_I-i-it's okay! I still l-like them," Tweek recants, eyes wide in a frenzy of fear. Cartman just stares at him with those narrowed brown eyes, and then he gives a sigh and pats Tweek on the back- hard. Hard enough to send him sprawling forward and screaming as if scalded. Everyone turns and I hear Stan mutter, "Asshole" as Kyle helps Tweek off his face. "Ngh…GAH!" Tweek jerks from the red-heads grasp but sends an apologetic puppy look. Kyle just shrugged as Pip and Butters entered again with food and everything resumed its proper course. _

_At about nine Pip announced he had to go home. The shy British boy looked over at Tweek who had been curled up in the same position for hours now. He caught Tweek's eyes, and Tweek nodded. "I'll w-w-walk him home-GAH! It's s-so dangerous out there…" he mumbled, obviously envisioning something violent and terrifying that would keep him awake. Tweek picked up his present, holding it close to his chest, and he and the Brit bid everyone goodnight. I walked with them in the dark streets, in the cold. Together they could survive this- both were outcasts, and both got along fairly well. _

"_I'm s-s-sorry you didn't get anything… Kenny can be an ass-h-h-hole." Tweek said, eyes scanning all over the place. Pip just gave a sad smile and shrugged. _

"_Oh, I'm used to it."_

"_It doesn't make it r-r-right-GAH!" Tweek snapped, his whole body jumping with that scream and the box of candy almost tumbling from his grasp. He caught it just barely then looked at it, an idea brimming in his blonde head. He stops walking and tugs on Pip's sleeve, making the other boy falter and almost slip on the ice. "Hey! Y-y-you want my present?" he asks, a smile on his usually sad and scared face. _

_Pip's eyes widen, his jaw slacking a little at such kindness. "Oh, no! I couldn't do that, Tweek. It wouldn't be right at all, old chap." He waves his hands in a way signaling he means it. He probably does too; that is, feels bad about taking Tweek's gift. _

"_N-no, ngh. I can't eat them. I'd r-r-rather sh-share than toss them though," he says, edging the box closer to Pip. I smile at Tweek's sweetness; it's very like him to be this selfless. Pip finally nods, laughing softly to himself. He and Tweek take a spot on the curb after brushing the snow away. A street light overhead flickers, making Tweek spaz out. Pip calms him down with a hand to his back and Tweek curves into the touch. _

_The small box is opened, and Pip looks thoughtfully into it before picking up the middle piece of chocolate. Tweek watches him, smiling at how happy his friend looks and simultaneously shivering in the cold. Pip pops the treat into his mouth and makes a satisfied noise. They sit there for about two minutes, and he grabs another before shutting the box and handing it to Tweek who shakes his head. "It's yours." Pip shrugs, happy to oblige and they both get up to finally go home. _

_Tweek takes about two steps away from the curb when he hears it. I see it right away: Pip Pirrup is on the ground, choking for air. He rolls to his back and grasps at his throat, making these horrible gurgling noises like he is drowning. Tweek's eyes go wide, round as the moon and just as luminous. Pip's eyes roll back into his head giving his eyes a dead, milky white appearance and his body starts to seize- he continues to choke out, and his body jumps and squirms as if shaken by an unseen force. His hat has fallen off and seeps with snow, while his blonde hair falls on the dirty tar of the street and starts to turn a dingy brown._

_I watch Tweek watching Pip. He is stuck with fear, silent tears pouring down his face and his mouth making words that come out with no sound. Pip's skin starts to turn a shade of pink, with his seizures becoming more frenzied; Tweek watches in horror as foam starts to come from his mouth and he gives one last choke before his body stops moving all together. _

_That's when Tweek screams like I've never heard him before. All along the street lights begin to pop on in houses. I turn to see people looking out upstairs windows, and some poking their heads out of the door. When I turn back to Tweek he is on his knees in the snow with Pip's dead body coddled to his chest. His cheek is pressed to the dead boy's, his thin arms wrapped protectively whispering prayers of life back into him- futile attempts. He rocks softly as a man I'd hardly ever seen approaches him as I see his wife rush for the phone. _

_When he touches Tweek, the boy shrieks like a banshee and claws at the man leaving long gashes down the left side of his cheek. The adult- not sure what is going on, but obviously sees Tweek holding a dead body- backs up slowly, before beckoning for help. With the assistance of a few more men in their night robes they pry Tweek away from Pip Pirrup and someone gently covers the body with a sheet while sirens go off in the distance. It takes four men to hold Tweek's thrashing form as he tries to break free and run to his former friend. All the while he is foaming at the mouth, screaming at the people, screaming at the voices in his head, and crying, and begging for help. He tells them he didn't know, he tells them he didn't mean to. He tries to explain what happened to him, but no one hears him really- they never have before, why start now? All they can see is a stark raving mad, lion haired boy, with wild eyes who just killed his friend with an abandoned box of chocolates that were found next to the body, spilled open and shining like black river rocks under the street lamp. _

X

I wake up with a start, once more drenched in my own sweat, with my chest heaving and my heart about to jump out of my chest. My room is silent, except for Clyde's soft snores and the whirring of the ceiling fan. And, of course now, the sound of my breath rapidly leaving my body. I kick back the covers and I take the few strides to the bathroom.

The person in the mirror looks disheveled; he looks like a person who was told, by someone he could possibly love no less, that his boyfriend killed someone. I turn on the faucet and wash away the sweat and grime.

Since Tweek told me about his reason for being in the state school I'd been dreaming about it. It appeared behind my eyelids every time they shut. After he told me he collapsed against me, sobbing and unable to stop. I wrapped my arms around his small, shaking frame, unable to do much more than that. My mouth had been bone dry, and even if it hadn't what could I say? I stroked his hair until he calmed down enough to let me wipe away his tears. He asked if I was going to leave, and I told him no. Something was weird about how Pip died; it just didn't seem like murder- more an accident if anything. I asked Tweek what he died of, but no one had told him…they'd just shipped him off to the crazy house for boys.

Once I got home that night I found my yearbook from senior year. My fingers deftly flipped to my class, and then to Tweek's photo. The small boy looked so closed in in that tiny frame. His button up was, of course, buttoned up wrong and the dark circles under his eyes accentuated in the black and white photo. A page over sat Pip Pirrup with a goofy smile, his blonde hair framing his thin face, and the bow tie he normally wore completely visible and perfectly straight. He looked so happy whereas Tweek looked terrified. My eyes compared both pictures and once more the images Tweek had described flashed through my mind. I shut the damn thing.

Back in the real world I was looking less pale and dead. My heart had stopped thumping loudly, my breath regulated. My hair was sticking up on the left side, and slightly matted to my face. I rubbed it, and turned off the faucet. My mind was still whirring with the memories of the dream. I had to figure out what really happened; I had to get Tweek out of there, because he didn't deserve to be there at all. I had to make things right in any way I could, because I'm the goddamn hero of this story.

X

I hate coffee shops- not the place itself, just the atmosphere. I hate seeing all the "authors" writing their novels out in the open like anyone gives a shit, I hate the overpriced-ness of three dollars a cup, I hate the jackasses in black and berets discussing existentialism or whatever it is they do. But it is a good place to meet someone if you want to be unheard and practically left alone.

My fingers drum on the table, and I glance at my watch nervously. The barista behind the counter calls my name and I walk up to get my overpriced beverage- fuck you, it's early. As soon as I take my seat I hear the obnoxious bell above the door go off. My eyes snap up and I can feel them widen as everyone's eyes also lock onto the person that just entered.

Bebe Stevens in all her glory illuminated from the sunlight pouring in. Her eyes search the room until they find me, and they narrow. Her heels click loudly on the tile floor as she makes her way to my table. She's wearing a black pea coat, skinny blue jeans, and sizeable heels. There are big hoops dangling from her ears, and her hair has been straightened and tied up into what I think she once described as a French twist. She sits down across from me, placing her purse on her lap and crossing her legs.

"Hello, Craig." she says, smiling sarcastically and reaching out to snatch the coffee from my grasp. I let it go, and she places the lid to her lips. A beautiful reunion is all I can think bitterly. Truth be told, I had felt kind of bad about the fight with her- she isn't such a bad person, a little made up and a little fake sometimes, but she is a good person. She was nothing but a good girlfriend. Henceforth, I figured I owed her an explanation and perhaps an apology. "Mmm, caramel frappe? My fave, how'd you know, Craig?" she jokes, taking another small sip before putting it down and placing her chin in her other hand.

"It's mine too, Bebe. Listen, I wanted to talk." I say, getting straight down to business. She cocks a sleek eyebrow and leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Okay," she says haughtily, "Talk."

I gulp, kind of nervous now that I am confronted with the situation. I'm bold, I never hold back, but for some reason I'm not kind of quivering here with my ex in front of me. "I wanted to apologize for how I treated you." I say slowly, making sure to annunciate my words. They come out sounding forced, and I wince at that. "It was uncalled for, I just snapped. I didn't mean most of what I said."

"Most?" she grins, no longer trying to intimidate me.

"Most, yes. I shouldn't have said those things, but something you said pissed me off." The words flew freely now that she doesn't look like some kind of demon in a French twist. "You are a very beautiful girl, and we had a good relationship while it lasted. I hope you don't think we're going to get back together," I add, raising an eyebrow.

She throws her head back and laughs. Everyone's eyes fall on us again and I find myself hissing at her to shut the hell up. She chuckles lowly; wiping the smudges from under her eyes, she runs her tongue over her lips before saying, "You'd have to be stupid to think we were. No, Craig. We're through. It's probably for the best, to be honest. I really only came to hear _why_ we are through. I guess that's really the only part that got to me. I never got a reason, an explanation if you will." She traces a finger over the rim of her cup, looking past me in thought.

"I left you for a guy." I blurt out, and her body stiffens. It's a very long, awkward silence until she makes eye contact with me and her mouth slacks a little. I am sitting straight up, my hands folded on the table- I don't feel weakness at this point. If I did it would stand to say I regretted it, and I don't. An image of Tweek smiling at me flashes across my vision, and I find my lips twitching to curve upwards.

Bebe tucks a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and cocks her head sideways, as if she hasn't quite heard me right. "You….you left me for a man."

"Yes."

"For someone….with a penis." She reiterates, leaning forward, her eyes scanning mine for any sort of lie in this statement- maybe hopefully, I mean who wants to hear they turned their ex to guys? "Oh God," she moans when I don't move, when I don't deny it. She takes a deep breath and then looks straight at me, "Who is it?"

"I'm not telling you!" I blurt, my face going red. She glowers at me, pursing her lips in thought. I haven't told anyone before this, and it isn't like I expect Bebe to keep her mouth shut on the matter. If I was her I'd tell everyone I could, and I'd have no shame. But, I'm not going to sell out Tweek.

"Is it Clyde?"

"What?" She leans back, her eyes scrutinizing me. "N-no! You are sick, Bebe," I say it with conviction but I can feel my face lighting up with hot blush. She just giggles to herself, and looks behind her, toward the clock over the barista's counter. Her shoulders sag and she looks back at me with weary eyes.

"It's Tweek, huh?" she says blatantly. My eyes go wide, obviously giving me away. "Ahh," she says, taking a light sip of the drink, and running her tongue over her lips in thought. She doesn't seem that surprised or panicked- which sends me into a tizzy. How did she know? How could she? I'd never mentioned his name to her or anyone else for that matter. "You really shouldn't leave your schoolwork on your dresser where anyone can see it, you know." She chides, but not rudely…more like she is trying to be helpful, but I don't really need her help.

"You saw the file? You went through my shit?" I growl, narrowing my eyes at her.

"You left it in the open, I just peeked. Why didn't you tell me it was Tweek you were going to see? I would have gone with you- he was my friend too." She snaps back quickly. I avert my gaze, thinking about the last few months with Tweek and how they were perfect for the most part. I thought about how another person being in the mix would have made everything different; would I still have fallen for him if Bebe were there? Or even Clyde? How would he react? Would he be better, or regress more into his shell? I'll never know, not really anyways. It's too late.

I take a breath, and find my mouth is dry as bones. "It was something I wanted to do on my own. You know how our friendship ended; you knew what happened. To hear that," I lick my lips, "Your old best friend has been in a crazy house for three years is a hard thing to take in. I needed to be the hero. I needed to do this on my own; not just for him, but for me. I wouldn't be able to do that if you were there." I look up, finally feeling a weight lifted at saying the words. I stare into Bebe's eyes, and she looks back calmly- this moment of clarity running between us. Unspoken moments, unspoken opinions, unspoken truths that we can tell are there but that we won't ever say.

Finally she cracks a smile, a real one. "That's all you had to say, Craig."

I can't help it, I smile back.

X

Tweek is sitting alone when I enter the mess hall. His straightjacket is off, but he has two guards standing awfully close to his table. Greg guides me to his table where he is hunched over and moving his food around with his fork. Off in the corner I see the patient's looking at me warily, wondering who I am. Why I'm here. I catch the eyes of three boys who were cowering in the corner- their beady eyes flickering between Greg, myself, and Tweek. I flip them off, and they recoil as if burned.

Greg stops a few feet away from the table, nods his head at the other guards who back away a little as well. I continue to walk up to the table and sit down across from him. The mess hall is deadly quiet, and I can feel pairs of eyes burning holes in my skull, but I try to ignore it. Tweek stops pushing food around and his hazel eyes look up and past his bangs. When he sees me he drops his fork and a smile works its way onto his face.

"Hey, Tweek." I say, unable to hide my smile.

A small smile twitches its way into his lips. "H-h-hey," he says back, his voice soft. "W-w-what are you doing h-here? I thought y-you were-ngh- busy with ex-ex-exams- GAH!" He looked to the side nervously, saw all the gazes and shrieked before slamming his head on the table and tangling his hands in his hair. "W-w-w-why are they sta-staring-GAH!" he whimpered, and I put a gentle hand on his hair. He shook less, and after a few moments he looked back up at me.

"They're staring because I'm here, dude. Calm down. And, I finished early. I have a present for you." His eyes widened to a size I recognized that meant fear and panic. I brushed a hand through my hair and took a deep breath. It's winter in Colorado, December twentieth at this point, and school is officially out for about two weeks for me. Exams are done, my paper on Tweek is nearly completion, and Clyde has already headed back to South Park without me. So, before I headed back, I had a few bases to cover.

"Calm down, spaz. It isn't anything bad." I see him visibly deflate. The noise level in the mess hall picks up slightly as the patients realize that we aren't very interesting subjects to watch. Tweek fiddles with his hands nervously waiting for me to tell him his surprise. "I've worked on this for…months. And, it's finally paid off." His eyes snap to mine, and I grin devilishly. I can see the gears working in his mind.

I lean forward, and he does the same, his hands gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles are white. I place my lips right next to his ear, "I'm going to South Park for Christmas. You're going too."

He screams, and once more all eyes are on us.

X

Sorry this is so delayed/sucks so horribly. It'll get better. I'm just hitting horrible writers block. D:


	11. Chapter 10

Invincible

Chapter 10

X

Previously: I lean forward, and he does the same, his hands gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles are white. I place my lips right next to his ear, "I'm going to South Park for Christmas. You're going too." He screams, and once more all eyes are on us.

**2 Weeks Earlier…**

Doctor Faithful's office was disgustingly clean. It smelt like lemon floor cleaner and that was absolutely revolting to me. I tapped my converse on the floor impatiently, looking around at everything in her office. The chair they had me sit in was making my butt numb, and I really didn't have much extra time to wait for her dumb ass. However, this was an important cause and I'd wait as long as I had to. I just like complaining.

Her desk is a dark wood, shiny and smooth. Papers are stacked neatly: completed and uncompleted files in separate piles, paper clipped and organized. I leaned forward, curious, as to what else she had on there. A jar of pens and some highlighters; some scissors, a stapler. A nice, compact laptop that was shut and password protected (I'd tried to crack it to no avail). She had a few pictures of herself with a small boy; he looked to be about seven and he had a smile that reminded me of Tweek's. Doctor Faithful stood behind him, her arms wrapped lovingly around his small shoulders. I'd never seen her smile, and she actually looked pretty with it.

"That's my son," called a voice so close to me I nearly dropped the frame. Doctor Faithful was looking down at me. She wasn't sneering like she usually does with me; in fact she was smiling softly. "His name is Mikhail." She strode past me to her desk and took a seat, pulling off her glasses and rubbing them on the hem of her shirt.

"Cute kid," I mumbled, eyes still focusing on her. She fixed the frame, and put it exactly where it was before I had messed with it.

"He is going to be ten this year. Do you know why I chose the job I have, Mr. Tucker?" she asks, not trying to be a smartass, but genuinely wanting to know if I do. I shake my head, because I have no fucking idea why. "A few months after this picture was taken Mikhail and I were in New York City, visiting his grandparents. We had to take the subway home, because money was sparse and I could not afford a cab. It was late, but I can never remember the exact time. Even though it was late, the subway car we were in was very busy. All of a sudden this man burst into and demanded everyone's wallets. He had a gun, and so we all started pulling out our valuables. He ordered us to put them into this burlap sack. Mikhail had a watch his father had given him for his birthday, before he left overseas. It was a very nice model; expensive, and very dear to my son.

"The man saw that Mikhail had not taken off his watch and demanded it from him. My son would not relent, even when I asked and begged him to. The man did not wait and tried to yank it off his wrist. Mikhail fought back, and somehow, before I could react, the gun had gone off…" she trailed off, her eyes glazed over in thought.

"My son was hit in the back of the head. He cannot breathe without tubes, and he will probably be in a coma for the rest of his life. The man who shot him was mentally unstable; it turns out, and was put into a psychiatric hospital at sentencing. He will die in there from his disease that he did not ask for, and my son will be hospitalized for the rest of his life; even if he wakes up from his coma, he cannot walk, and will not be able to feed himself. Two lives that are hanging in the balance, Craig, and one can be helped right now with the right techniques. I will do everything in my power to help those afflicted by a disease they never asked for, and that will leave them helpless in the real world. I want to help them, because that is what my son would want."

We lapse into a silence, the story she told me hanging in the air around us. So, she isn't just a complete and utter bitch. She has her reasons for acting this way; she has to be strong for people, who cannot, and she can't falter or things will not happen. It is sad and admirable at the same time. I feel my respect for her grow tenfold.

"What is it you need, Craig?" she asks, breaking our silence. I jump slightly, and nod at her.

"I'd like to take Tweek home for Christmas. He needs some time out of here."

"Absolutely not."

"You need to hear me out."

"I have to do no such thing. He is still a danger to himself and others. The improvement you have helped him with is wonderful, don't get me wrong. I cannot, however, allow him to go home because we have no way of controlling him if something happens. It's dangerous, Mr. Tucker." She sighs and leans back in her chair with her index and middle fingers rubbing her temples in annoyance. I glare at her, my mouth itching to scream at her how wrong she is. But that would do no good, and I cannot blow this.

Taking a deep breath, I calmly begin, "He listens to me. He deserves to get out; Tweek has been in here for years, and seen no one but me and the orderlies. It isn't fair." She says nothing when I stop, but I can see her eyes wavering. "He needs to see his family, and he needs fresh air. I will take care of him, Doctor. I won't let anything happen." I look her dead in the eye and will her to say it's okay.

We have a stare down; neither of us blink or look away. She sighs, her shoulders sagging and she reaches in her desk for something. Silence falls all around us. Doctor Faithful pulls out a file and opens it; Tweek's picture stares up at me in fear.

"Fine. You get one week. We need to discuss some rules."

X

**Present Day: Tweek screaming. **

"Tweek! Shut up!" I yell, leaping at him and covering his mouth with my hands. All eyes are wearily on us; I decide it's time to leave. Dragging him from the cafeteria I throw him into the closest restroom and barricade the door with the trash can. He scrambles from the linoleum and presses himself to the wall, almost as if he wants to disappear into it. I run my hands through my hair, and sigh.

Calmly, I start, "Tweek, it's okay."

"JESUS. I-it's not ok-okay! _Ngh_…" his eyes dart all over the place. He is looking for a way to escape, and I run forward to grab onto him so he doesn't hurt himself. His wild, alert eyes lock on mine and that's when I notice he is crying; tears stream down his face staining his cheeks in lines. He struggles against my grip, but I pull him forward into my chest and put one hand in his hair. Tweek sniffles and presses closer to me, his hands grabbing fistfuls of clothes in his grasp and letting himself break down.

"Tweek, shush," I whisper, stroking his hair, "It's okay. It's going to be okay. You don't have to go if you don't want to."

"B-b-b-but, I d-do, _ngh_…I'm s-scared..." barely audible in my clothes. I slowly begin to rock him, and wait to see if he says anything more.

"I'll be with you. Does that help? What are you scared of?"

He is quiet; even his breathing stops, and I get very frightened that something is wrong. I pull away to look into his face to see his brow furrowed. His lips are pulled into a thin line, and he looks very pale. "The devil is there." he whispers into my chest. My heart stops, and I find myself remembering his breakdown.

He believes there is a devil in South Park; perhaps waiting to finish him off. We stand together quietly, his breathing into the fabric of my clothes, and me not really knowing what to say. How can I tell him that there is no devil waiting for him? He won't believe me, and I can't have him freak out now when he is just about to get a moment- a _taste_!- of freedom.

I finally pull back to look into his eyes. They are red and still watery with unshed tears. He looks at me defiantly, and I bend down, cup his face and kiss his forehead. Tweek lets out a soft sigh, his eyelids fluttering shut from the contact. "I'll protect you. From whatever you think will hurt you. I won't let anything bad happen to you again. You're safe with me, Tweek." I bend down and brush my lips against his. He responds: his body calming at the touch and he turns his head to get a better angle. We kiss for what seems like a long time, and then I pull back to exam him.

"You trust me?" I ask.

"Y-y-yes…_ngk_…" he responds, lacing his fingers in mine and smiling like a scared child absolved of a crime.

"I love you," I whisper, the words coming out without me even thinking them. Tweek's eyes grow round and his cheeks begin to glow with blush- all the way up to his ears. I feel myself going equally red. I hadn't meant to say that, but that doesn't mean I didn't mean it.

I had known for a while I was in love with Tweek. The way I could never get him out of my mind, or the way his smile would set a fire inside me… It was like electricity; feeling truly, and completely alive. Something I had never felt with Bebe, not even close, to be honest. A few nights I had laid awake thinking of ways I could let him know, or tell him, that would not be corny or stupid. This was my first love, and I wasn't going to mess it up (not that I could, because c'mon. It's me for Christ's sake).

"Ahh…" I say stupidly, my mouth hanging open so wide it could catch flies. We stare at each other: milky hazel meeting grass green. Eye contact is broken only when there is a sharp knock at the bathroom door. Both our heads turn and Tweek actually cowers to the floor, with his hand over his ears and his eyes slammed shut. "Y-yeah?" I ask, trembling from nervousness.

"You guys okay?" comes Greg's voice through the door. I let out a sigh, rubbing my temples and nod even though he can't see me.

"Yeah, we'll be out in a minute." I respond, get a grunt in response and hear his shoes shuffle down the hall. I look back to Tweek who is still squatting on the ground, but his eyes are on me now. I blush, and bend down to become eye level with him. I cannot think of anything to say; for once the invincible Craig Tucker has nothing smart, sassy, quirky, or lame to say. Speechless.

Suddenly Tweek bends forward and kisses me quickly. When he pulls back he is smiling his perfect smile, his eyes crinkling with happiness I haven't seen in forever. "I l-l-love you t-too, Craig." he says, and I can't hardly believe it. Before I can realize what I am doing I tackle him and kiss him as hard as I can…

X

"Yo, yo, yo bitch!" Clyde says as I close the door to our room behind me. He throws a nasty pair of boxers at me, and I splutter to get them the fuck away from me. Clyde lets out a bellowing laugh and continues to pack his stuff into a suitcase. We leave to South Park in the morning; Clyde has a car, and since I convinced him we need to visit our folks he agreed to drive me. I have, however, forgotten to tell him about Tweek coming as well. "Where have you been? Oh, I proofread your rough draft for psychology," he turns to his desk and files through papers until he finds what he is searching for and plops it onto my bed. "What is your patient's name anyways? You never mention it." He comments absentmindedly, folding a shirt and placing it neatly into his bag.

"About that," I start, placing my bag down on my bed and kicking my sneakers off, "I need to tell you some things."

"Mmhmm." He hums.

"You might want to sit down." He turns, his brow furrowed in confusion. He sits down on his bed, with his back hunched and his hands clasped together. "My patient is someone we know; someone from South Park." His eyes go wide like I knew they would- Clyde is far too easy to read. "You remember Tweek Tweak. Well, he's my project. That's why I've been there nearly every day for the past few months. Something happened, and his parents put him there since we graduated and all left for college. But, he isn't crazy like they believe him to be. He's just scared, and being cooped up in a tiny room doesn't help. I'm sure your patient is the same way."

He mulls this over then shakes his head, "My patient peels the paint off her walls and eats it, dude. She's batshit." I groan in frustration. Perfect. Let's try this again… But before I can say anything more to him he goes, "But if you say he is okay then I believe you. Haven't seen him in so long, man… I…haven't even given him any thought in years. Shit…" he feels bad, and I wish I could comfort him but I don't know how to. He averts his gaze, his shoulders slump in defeat.

"I did too, Clyde. And I was his best friend, remember?" I say calmly, but feeling the weight of my words.

"Can I visit him sometime? I'd like to see how he is, if that's okay." I'm stunned at how honest his words are, but it makes me smile.

"He'd like that, Clyde," we smile at each other for a moment and then I break the silence with, "There's more."

"Oh fuck." He says, but he is smiling.

"I'm gay."

"Oh. Like, happy? Cause, yeah, I can understand being happy about-"

"No, dipshit, as in I love Tweek. I like kissing him."

"You like…penis?"

"Jesus Christ…" I groan, regretting having this conversation with a five year old retard in a twenty one year olds body. But then he starts to laugh, and rolls onto his back holding his gut. I glare at him, and feel a yearning desire to punch him into the teeth. "What's so goddamn funny?"

He wipes away fake tears and props himself up on his elbow while looking at me with grinning eyes. "I've known for a while man, I'm just fucking with you. You get riled up way too easy."

"You…knew?" the words are hard to get out, and I'm completely baffled- and embarrassed. Clyde the retard actually knew something before I did? Inconceivable.

"Yeah, man. Ever since you broke up with Bebe and spent all your time at the hospital. I just kind of pieced two and two together." He ends with a shrug. My mouth is hanging open. "I still love you, man. Just don't come onto me. I'm not into that. But, let's get back to the situation at hand: you _love_ Tweek?" his eyes widen, questioning me and my motives it seems.

I gulp, and nod. "Yeah." We have a massive stare down for a while until he blinks and I flip him off. Clyde rises from his bed and walks over to mine to sit down next to me. He claps me on the back and places his head on my shoulder, obviously mocking my sexuality. But, I don't care. I just laugh. It feels good to tell someone; to come out and say it after holding it in for as long as I did. "He's coming with us to South Park tomorrow." I say.

Clyde makes a noncommittal noise then gets back up to resume packing. "That's cool man, but no fucking in the car. Also, no crazy business. He better not be insane, dude, I'm trusting you here." He points a finger at me accusingly, but when I smile he turns his back. "You should start packing, Craig. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow." As he heads into the bathroom I lay on my back, stare at my ceiling fan and smile.

Tomorrow is the start of something new, and I cannot wait to see what will happen.

X

Tweek holds onto my hand as we exit the hospital. He has a small knapsack on his back filled with spare clothes and shoes. Clyde's car is waiting for us near the curb; he honks and screams something but I cannot understand what he says. Tweek flinches, and hides behind me.

"You okay?" I ask, looking back at him. His eyes are locked on the walkway out of the home he has been in for three years. He trembles, gulps, and looks up at me with pleading eyes. I grip onto his small hand tighter and put on a brave smile.

"_Ngh_…scared… Clyde h-hasn't seen me in y-y-years. What if he h-hates me?" he whines. I let out a small chuckle. He glares, which doesn't look at all menacing the way I believe he meant it to be.

I turn so that my back is to the street, and my body hides Tweek from view. He looks up at me, his hands fumbling nervously with mine. I bring his knuckles to my lips and kiss them; I kiss the scares all up his arms and finally I plant a small kiss on his perfect lips. He squeals, and shivers happily. When I pull back he looks completely at ease- well as at ease as a person like Tweek can be. I reach into his bag and pull out the thermos of coffee that I have been bringing since the beginning of our time together.

He takes a big gulp, finishing off the delicious drink. "We'll get you more before we head out."

"C-can I have the one with the c-c-coconut sprinkles?" he asks sweetly, his eyes roaming all over the place.

"Of course, Tweek. Also, don't worry about Clyde hating you. He is excited to see you, just as I'm sure your parents are." I ruffle his hair and he leans in to my touch. A cough from behind us ends our short moment together.

Doctor Faithful and Greg stand in the door way; both looks extremely professional, but Greg is smiling so I know only something good can happen. Tweek shrieks under his breath and scampers to hide behind me once more. "Doctor," I say nodding my head in her direction. She looks down at me over her glasses, but nods back at me.

"Take care of him, Mr. Tucker. I assume you have the number for the institute should something arise?" her voice is cold, but I know she has to be somewhat proud of Tweek for being so calm- yes, this is calm for Tweek- and being able to leave for a small period of time. I nod at her, not wanting to say anything lest it piss her off for some reason. I'm good at that, I've found. "Hmmm. Have a good visit, Tweek. I wish you the best. Merry Christmas." She turns on her heels and heads back inside the grungy building. Greg lingers in the door, but smiles widely at us and gives me thumbs up before regaining composure and heading inside.

Once the double doors shut, I turn to Tweek whose gaze is focused on where the two had just stood. "This is r-real, _gah_!" he says, "I get to g-g-go out for a long t-t-t-time…_ngk_!" His voice is getting high pitched from excitement. Clyde honks his horn loudly, and Tweek screams and claws at my arm.

I flip him off, and he gives us a small beep in return. "This is real, Tweek. I love you. Let's go home, yeah?"

"L-love you too. Y-yeah…" he responds softly. And taking my hand in his we begin our way down the steps and towards life outside the asylum.

X

TBC.

Sorry for such a late update. I had bad writers block, then got two jobs and applied to a four year university. Next chapter: the home visit. Only two or three chapters left guys. Please review. I hope this was okay! .;


	12. Chapter 11

Invincible

Chapter 11

X

Previously: Clyde honks his horn loudly, and Tweek screams and claws at my arm. I flip him off, and he gives us a small beep in return. "This is real, Tweek. I love you. Let's go home, yeah?" "L-love you too. Y-yeah…" he responds softly. And taking my hand in his we begin our way down the steps and towards life outside the asylum.

"Are we there yet?"

"Clyde…"

"Are we there yet?"

"C-clyde you sh-should-d stop that, GAH!"

"Are we there _yet_, Craig?"

This has been going on for an hour now. Clyde and I switched driving after like ten minutes because he decided he was too fatigued, and was worried he might crash the car. This comment scared the piss out of Tweek, who attempted to roll down his window and leap out of the car while it was still moving. After calming down Tweek, I proceeded to beat the shit out of the back of Clyde's head until he pulled over and HE got to sit in the back with Tweek.

"Are. We. There. Yeeeeeeet?" Clyde smiles, leaning forward between the seats, and getting way too close to me. I still, telling myself that killing him would be bad and to keep on driving. If I freak out, no one will be able to help Tweek. I glance at his small frame in the rear view mirror: he is sitting close to the window, his eyes on Clyde and wide with fright. He has his shoes off, and his knees brought up to his chest with his arms wrapped around them.

"S-s-s-seriously, Clyde. S-shut the f-f-uck up-p…_ngh_…" he says passively, his brow furrowed in worry, and I catch his eyes in the mirror. He shrugs, and I smile back at him hoping he can see it. He sighs and looks back out the window. Denver is about two hours away from South Park, and we still have one and a half miserable hours to go.

"Clyde, before you continue, let me tell you this, my friend," I begin, and see Clyde cock his head and elbow Tweek as if to get him to pay attention. "If you don't shut the hell up in the next minute I will kick your teeth so far down your throat you'll shit them out." Clyde's brown eyes grow wide, I see him visibly gulp and he turns to Tweek to engage him in conversation. Tweek is, however, laughing lightly- making his face come alive with light and vibrancy.

"Can we change the music?" Clyde asks, out of the blue after one glorious moment of silence.

"Why? I like this music." I have it on a contemporary punk rock, metal station. Since I am the driver it is only fair that I get music rights. Clyde, of course, finds this unfair because it is his car. Tweek never says anything because, frankly, he is too absorbed in watching the world fly by outside his window.

Clyde scoffs at me, "Do you like this music Tweek? His music taste is sucky, right? You agree with me, don'tcha Tweek?"

"Ngh…" he starts to shake, his hands wring together nervously as his eyes look to me for an answer.

"Shut the fuck up, Clyde, you ass licking faggot!" I screech.

"What kind of music do you even like, Tweek?" Clyde asks, ignoring my yells. I almost stop the car at the look I see in Tweek's eyes. His brows furrow and his lips draw into a thin line; his eyes search Clyde for an answer that is not there. Clyde smiles his dopey, idiotic smile at Tweek, and waits for an answer. "Music, Tweeker. M-u-s-i-c! What kind do you like?" he repeats, as if _Tweek_ is the retarded one.

I growl, "Shut the fuck up, Clyde. He's been in the hospital for three years, you idiot. I don't think they let him listen to music…" Tweek looks at me with sad eyes, and nods. A silence falls over the car, and Clyde bites his lip and turns his head.

"I u-used to like cl-clasic r-r-r-ock, back in the d-day, ngk…" he finally mumbles, and Clyde perks up. He begins to ramble to Tweek about all the classic rock songs he likes, and wondering which ones Tweek was into. The blonde shirks onto his side of the car, Clyde's personality being a little too much for him at the moment and in the small confines of this car. My eyes find an exit sign noting all the food places off its road. I take the exit while Clyde continues to question Tweek. After ten minutes I pull into a Taco Bell, hoping this will shut Clyde up and get Tweek some fresh air.

Clyde shrieks as we pull up and jumps out of the car first, before I can even put the car in park. Tweek shakes and shivers nervously, his eyes once more finding mine in the rear view mirror. I turn off the car and turn to face him. He scoots to the edge of his seat and hugs me around the neck, all the while mumbling about how Clyde is more of a psychopath than he is.

I stroke his hair, "You aren't a psychopath to begin with, Tweek." I mumble in his ear. He shivers and lets out a deep sigh. "Are you hungry?" I ask, pulling back to look at him. Tweek bites his lip- and though he isn't trying to look attractive, he does to me. I lean in to press my lips against his and he gives a small mewl of pleasure, turning his head just so to make it perfect. I let my fingers roam through his hair, gripping onto a fistful and getting hot at hearing him whine into my mouth.

A tap on the window scares Tweek so badly he head-butts me, while simultaneously biting my lip before he scampers to the floor of the car. I whirl my head to see Clyde pressing his gaping mouth against the window, and making the part of the window fog up. I slam my palm against it, startling him and watching him fall to his ass on the concrete. I kick the door open and step out of the car, literally fuming with embarrassment and rage. "The fuck is your deal, Clyde?"

He gets up off the floor, brushing himself off and laughing all the while. "Chill out, Craig. I was just having fun. Plus, you were taking too long and I want to eat," he says running a hand through his hair. I hear a car door slam and see Tweek walking slowly around the car towards us. I curl and uncurl my fists, fighting the urge to deck him. This is typical Clyde, but it does grate on ones nerve.

Tweek sidles up close to me, I can feel his heat behind me and then he slips his hand into one of my clenched fists. I find that it calms me down, and I stare at him before cracking a small smile. Clyde hums loudly until I turn back to him. "Let's go eat, for fucks sake!" I flip him off and pull Tweek past him.

We enter the Taco Bell, and Clyde rushes past us to order food. I look over the menu and turn to ask Tweek what he thinks will be good. What I see worries me: he looks terrified, pale, and as if he was about to throw up. I mean, I know Taco Bell isn't the best quality of food, but it has to be better than the shit he was used to in the hospital. Right? "H-hey, Tweek? You okay, man?" I ask with a comforting hand placed on his shoulder. He jumps and screams loudly, garnering us attention from the entirety of the restaurant.

"T-t-t-too much pr-pressure! Oh GOD!" he screams and turns to run back out the door. I bolt after him, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling him back to me. "I can't d-d-do this! Gah…ngk…jesus…" he rants, his eyes wild and crazy with worry as he looks for a way to escape my grasp.

"Tweek! Calm down, man! It's just ordering food…"

"N-no! NO it isn't!" he shrieks, and wrenches strongly from me. I watch him as he bolts for the car outside, and tries to open the door with all his strength. I walk after him, knowing that he won't go farther than that.

And then it hits me… Tweek has had his meals brought to him for years. He never had a choice, never had to make a decision. Being on his own for once, being actually able to make his own choices caused him to panic. It's a little too much for him, and it makes me feel insensitive as fuck.

I see Tweek slide down to the asphalt, his shoulders rising and falling with his rapid breathing. When I get to him, he has curled into a small ball, and is tearing at his hair. I bend down and pull his hands away from his beautiful hair, and pull him into a tight hug. He stops his squirming, and lets himself calm into my arms. "I'm sorry, Tweek. I didn't realize this would be so stressful. I didn't….know. I'm so sorry, and you don't have to decide right now. You can take as much time as you want. I'll get a big order and we can go from there. Oka?" on the last words I cup his face in my hands and stare into his eyes. They shake, nervous of what to say, but he eventually nods and I give him a kiss for his efforts.

"Taco fiesta, bitches!" Clyde shrieks, running out of the restaurant cradling an arm full of tacos. Beside me Tweek laughs softly.

X

I hadn't told my mom that I was bringing Tweek home with me. I had told her that I was bringing "my boyfriend" to which she promptly told me to wear a condom and be safe in my choices. My dad heard her in the background and tried to get on the line before I slammed my finger on the "end call" button.

I was nervous, to say the least.

Not because I was scared my parents wouldn't let Tweek stay- that wasn't a problem. As cold-hearted as my family seemed on the outside they were truly a bunch of softies. My mother couldn't resist cooking for my friends, and my dad enjoyed the banter between us as we played Tekken in the living room even if he complained ad nauseum about it interrupting his quiet time. So they were hardly a blip on my worry radar- which didn't exist mind you, because I am perfection incarnate.

What worried me was Tweek's reaction to being home in South Park. What caused me slight panic was how the townsfolk would react upon seeing their twitchy little ferrets return.

As we drove past the disgustingly old "Welcome to South Park!" sign, I saw him tense up. Clyde screamed like he was a two year old going to an amusement park.

"We are home, baby!" he whooped, thrusting his fists in the air and doing a jig in his seat.

"I will push you out of this car going 80, Clyde. Swear to God." I growled out.

"Will not. Pussy."

"Tweek, hold onto the wheel," I said, grabbing the blondes hand as I pushed down on the gas pedal. He screamed at me and flailed, falling against the car door and making Clyde laugh raucously in that annoying way he has. I sent a grin in Tweek's direction and he jutted out his bottom lip in a cute pout.

"Y-you're gonna get me killed, ngh…" he grumbled, eyes shifting off to the side.

"I'd never put you in real danger. That is reserved for Clyde." I responded easily, taking the turns to Clyde's house. Clyde bounced happily in the backseat, commenting on changes in town that we hadn't taken in since last time we'd been back. After a few moments we arrived at his old house and I reached back to open the door for him.

"This is my car," he said, furrowing his eyebrows at me.

"And I'm taking it till we leave."

"What do you need it for? You have no reason to go anywhere, Craig!" he whined. Tweek curled in on himself more in the passenger seat, hiding from view from any passersby. I reached a hand out and touched the top of his knee gently, reassuringly. His toffee colored eyes shivered in their owl sized sockets, but the corners of his lips turned up slightly. "If you fuck Tweek in my car I will murder you!" Clyde finally consented, seeing that I had made no effort to move anywhere from my seat.

He grabbed his bags from the trunk and kissed Tweek on the cheek goodbye. He made a jacking off motion to me as he backed up the sidewalk to his door. I flipped him off and hit the gas before I had a chance to see him go inside. I didn't care whether he got in okay or not.

Tweek was unnaturally quiet in his seat, fidgeting with his fingers and occasionally peeking out the window. "It's weird," he said after a moment of silence, "I never thought I'd come back…" His voice was steady, but I could tell it was taking a lot out of him. "Can we go somewhere first? Before we g-g-go to your place?" he asked in almost a whisper, turning his angelic face to me.

And how could I say no?

I pulled to an empty parking lot behind the flower shop that used to be there. I shut the car off, rolled up the windows and unbuckled my seatbelt. Tweek unbuckled his slowly and then silently crawled into the back seat. I followed suit.

Once we were both seated in the back of Clyde's car Tweek leaned into me and pressed his lips to mine. It was a chaste kiss, at first. His lips were chapped, rough against mine which weren't too much better. I brought a hand up to cup his face and tilted my head so that I could get better access to his bottom lip. Soft mewls bubbled out of his throat as I ran my fingers through his wiry hair, and sucked on his bottom lip, tracing it with my tongue. He shivered; his hands found my thighs and moved up them as he pushed me against the windowpane.

He was holding nothing back, and this was new. He crawled into my lap, pulled back to look at me, and pulled his hoodie over his head, showing the pale skin and his sharp hipbones beneath. I bit my lip, wanting to run my hands up the expanse of his stomach, wanting to tear off his shirt and kiss my way up him to see his reaction.

This is the first time we had been free of the walls of the hospital, free of the watching eyes, the screams, the hollers of the patients, free to touch each other and not give a fuck.

Before I could get to him, he curved forward and crashed down onto me. His hands grabbed onto my hips, and he rocked himself against me. I moaned into his mouth and tucked my fingers back into his hair to keep him close to me. I didn't want any space, no separation. He pulled back, breathless and flushed, before I pushed him to his back on the seat. His eyes opened in shock and awe, and something akin to lust flashed across their depths.

My stomach clenched, blood pooled in lower regions and I knew I was going to lose it over him. Instead of kissing him, I pressed my lips to his neck and trailed circles with my tongue, before suckling on the perfect, pale skin. He squirmed, making small noises, and gripping tightly to my form. My hands deftly lifted his shirt, revealing his small, bony hips and his flat stomach. And it was perfect and my hands couldn't stop themselves from trailing up his abdomen and then raking my nails down. His response was to buck forward, back arched, and tossing his head back he breathed my name.

His mouth found mine, and his hands wrapped around my neck to keep us together. Our bodies were pressed flush, his warmth seeping into me and filling me with desire. I wanted him. I wanted him to want me. I wanted everything with him, and I wanted to _be_ everything to him. "T-tweek, I love you." I manage to whisper before grabbing his hands and pinning them down to the seat beside his face.

Tweek's hair was sprawled out around him, making him look like he was floating; his face was red with blush, his lips a darker pink and swollen and oh so tempting. He clenched his hands, his piano fingers curling into his palm and I could feel his heartbeat through his veins. My eyes drifted to the scars that went all the way down his forearm, showing even whiter against his already alabaster skin. He saw me staring and he apologized under his breath.

I smiled, and bent down to kiss them. His breath hitched, his body tensed.

"Don't ever hurt yourself again, Tweek," I said with my mouth to his ear. He gulped loudly. "I'm never going to leave you; you'll never be alone. So, don't do this. Don't listen to those voices. Don't listen to what they say about you, about me, about us. They're liars. I'll always be with you from now on. I won't ever let you get hurt again." I didn't know if my words meant anything, if they sounded corny and ridiculous. But I meant them, and I hope he realized that.

Sniffles brought me to look at his face. Tears were running out of his eyes, his lips trembled trying to keep the sobs back. I opened my mouth to say something, to apologize because I hadn't meant to make him cry… He propped himself up on his elbows and then pushed up so he could kiss me sweetly.

"Thank you," he said.

X

"You ready?" I asked, parked in the driveway to my house. Tweek was shaking in the seat next to me, and mumbling softly to himself. He was nervous. I expected as much. He nodded after a minute, eyebrows furrowed in determination and lips set in a thin line. Under my breath I chuckled and he glared at me while blush spread across his face. I kissed him. "I love you."

"Y-yeah, ngh.." was all he said in reply.

I opened my door and went to the trunk to get my things, and Tweek's meager backpack. He took his bag from my hand, kissing my cheek and thanking me for the sweetness before slinging it over his back. His hand twitched at his side, and I knew that it was a cue to grab onto it. I did, and he squeezed it tightly, looking up at me.

We didn't say anything else but walked up to my door. I rang the doorbell and waited for someone to answer. Tweek bounced on the balls of his feet, careful not to slip on the icy porch. A silhouette appeared behind my door and then my father's figure appeared in the doorway, almost too tall, and too wide to get through it. When he saw me his stoic face burst into a grin and he lunged forward to hug me. My suitcase fell, and Tweek shrieked and assumed the fetal position, hands in his hair and cloistered like a clam.

"Dad, stop it!" I yelled, pushing him off me to bend down and take care of Tweek. After a few soft, comforting words he rises but avoids my dad's eyes. My dad stares at him in wonderment, something in me noticing that perhaps he remembers Tweek from our childhood, and part of me knowing he is wondering who the hell this kid is. "This is Tweek, dad. You remember him from when I was a kid right? Tweek Tweak?"

He cocked his head, stroked his chin in thought then shrugged. "Can't say I do, but then again my memory isn't the sharpest."

"State the obvious why don'tcha." I say. He flips me off and offers us room to shuffle inside. The house is warm, which is a nice change from the chill of my apartment and I'm sure Tweek's cell. Tweek hides behind me, his hands grabbing onto my jacket to not separate from me.

Nothing looked to have changed too much. Same boring beige walls, same boring mismatched sofas and lazy boy chair; same coat hanger, and television, and book shelf, and everything. Boring old house for the boring old Tuckers. I took my jacket off and hung it up, helping Tweek out of his and doing the same. My dad had already seated himself back down on his chair and picked up his beer.

He's watching ESPN and it looks incredibly dull.

"Where's mom?" I ask.

"Out with your sister. She'll be back for dinner."

"I'm gonna unpack. Tweek is staying with us," I reply, grabbing Tweek's hand and heading for the staircase that would take us to my old room.

"Whatever, kiddo." He says, nursing his bottle and already way too into his show. I rolled my eyes and flipped him off and Tweek said goodbye before racing up after me. We walked down the hallway to the room at the end which happened to be mine. I opened the door with far too much flourish and Tweek commented that I was some sort of drama queen.

My room was the same as I'd left it. Stripes old cage was on my dresser along with a nice coating of dust. Posters adorned the walls of bands and movies and even a naked girl or two. My TV still hung on the wall, the remote on top of my nightstand. My bed- king sized, bitches!- was still in its corner next to my closet with its blue sheets and comforter. I walked over to my old desk and slammed my suitcase down on it. Tweek followed meekly, his eyes taking in everything.

Gently he went over to my bed and set down his backpack, unzipping it quietly and pulling out his stuff. He never suspected me as I snuck up behind him and tackled him to my bed. He screamed, his limbs flailing out in all directions as I rolled him on top of me. "T-the hell!" he whined, his voice cracking. I just smiled up at him.

"Figured we could continue what we did in the car," I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively. He laughed loudly- it was a wonderful sound.

"Something's g-g-going on with y-your caterpillar eyebrows. I think they are tr-trying to esc-escape." He jokes, wiggling his own which makes him look rather silly. I puff out my cheeks, as if I am mad.

I rub my eyebrows with a hand. "I thought you thought they were sexy." Hoping if I pout my lip out he will take that as a cue to go in for the kill. He smiles at me, his eyes crinkling and he bends in and kisses my eyebrows.

"I w-wouldn't say sexy. Caterpillars are kind of okay, though."

"I hate you."

"You l-l-l-love me," he stammers out, blushing harder than I've ever seen before. He's so adorable, and so innocent. My face breaks out into a grin and his drops as he looks to the side embarrassed. "I d-didn't mean…" he trails off, picking at the skin around his nails for something to do.

I take my hands and put them on his cheeks; he things I'm gonna kiss him, but instead I smush his face in so his lips look like a fishes. He struggles in my grip and begins to fall backward. In a rush of hands and limbs we end up sprawled on the ground, laughing. And this is so nice even if he did land on top of me, and my back is kind of sore because Tweek is laughing and smiling and joking. It's like when we were young and everything is so perfect.

I kiss him sloppily, just so he can have one. He bites his bottom lip as he tries to conceal a smile. "I do love you," I finally say. He play hits my shoulder, and stares up at my ceiling fan as it circles endlessly.

"I know."

X

TBC.

Sorry this sucks cock and took so long to get out. I'm really busy with college and work. I'll try to hash out more soon! STAY WITH ME. I will get this complete!

Next Chapter: Craig's moms entrance, reunion of the South Park kids, and more. Thank you for being patient.


End file.
